Still Standing on her Head

Earthquake Update

2012-02-03T22:29:00.001+13:00

This afternoon I headed up the Rapaki Track for the first time in nearly a year. It's a popular track with mountain bikers, joggers and walkers. However after the February 22nd quake (2011) it was closed for many months due to rockfall hazard. On December 23rd, at midday, the announcement was made that it had reopened. And then two hours later, there was another quake, and one an hour after that, so it was again closed.

It seems that all the issues have been resolved, although there is still this sign at the start of the track. Many other tracks are still officially closed. For instance, the valley track in the gully below, where my favourite grumpy faced rock resides (at least, I hope it still resides there and wasn't a casualty of the earthquakes), and where a lone piper used to be heard practising from time to time.

On the Summit Road at the top of the track, there is a substantial road barrier - not one, but four rows of orange poles, then some heavy concrete barriers and a locked gate with a very official looking sign:

You can't quite read the small print in the photo, but it warns of a penalty of a very heavy fine or up to three months imprisonment, under the Canterbury Earthquake Recovery Act (some section or other), for ignoring the "No Entry" warning.

I used a lot of zoom to take this photograph:

This is on the other side of the Summit Road from the top of the track, it is the end of the cliff which used to be a popular rock climbing area. I very much doubt that it will be considered safe enough for rock climbing for a long time.

In other news, a link to my daughter's post on the process of her earthquake-related house repairs - now nearly completed. And as for ours - well, today we had an assessor sent by our insurance company. Seven months ago, the EQC (government natural disaster insurance organisation) assessed the house. And they have now decided that it is over the cap - (see explanation below) - so they passed the claim over to our insurance company. How this took seven months to decide I can't quite fathom. I guess it just sat in a pile of 100,000 or so other claims for that time, not being looked at. Today's assessor agreed that the damage was well over the EQC $100,000 cap - though he also told me that the house had "stood up pretty well". In other words, along with the chimney that fell down, the front of the house that needs to be jacked up, and a few doors that don't open or shut properly, there are enough cracks in ceilings, wall linings and exterior cladding to add up to a considerable sum to fix - but structurally, the house is not in any danger of falling down - unlike some.

For those overseas readers who are unfamiliar with the New Zealand earthquake insurance system - after the big 1931 Napier earthquake, the government set up the Earthquake Insurance Commission, which was supposed to cover damage to private houses (not businesses) from natural disasters. It is funded by a levy on all insurance policies. But the annual levy, and the limit on cover, were last reviewed in, I think, 1989, so have rather failed to keep pace with inflation. This means that EQC will cover damage up to $100,000 (plus GST - a type of sales tax) which in 1989 was the full cost of the average house. So, for the Christchurch earthquake, the system that is running is this:
Damage under $10,000 is paid out in cash and you organise your own repairs.
For damage between $10,000 to $100,000, Fletchers, a big construction company, have been appointed to oversee the repair process. This is to avoid having lots of "cowboy" contractors and price hikes due to the overwhelming demand for tradespeople. Fletchers then appoint subcontractors to do the repairs (the process my daughter has just been through).
And the third level - if it is above that, the $100,000 is paid either to your bank, if you have a mortgage, or to the homeowner, and the insurance company takes over from there.

I'm not too disturbed that we are over the limit, I had long suspected as much and wondered why no one had said so before. In fact, I think in some ways it will be easier to have only the insurance company to deal with, and not the rest of the bureaucracy. As to when anything will happen, along with most of the rest of the population of Christchurch, I have no idea. No doubt some time before I die, if that's not unexpectedly soon!

Tuesday Poem: The Bird, by Victor Hugo

2012-01-30T18:14:00.000+13:00

Be like the bird, who
Pausing in his flight
On limb too slight
Feels it give way beneath him
Yet sings
Knowing he has wings.

- Victor Hugo
(translator unknown)

I walk to and from work most days, if I can get up early enough (it takes about half an hour each way). On my walks, I often find myself not noticing my surroundings, as my mind goes its own way. So I try to counteract this tendency and deliberately notice what is around me, jotting down half a dozen small observations per day.

Last week I noticed a sparrow land on a dandelion stalk, which promptly bent itself horizontal under the bird's weight. The sparrow ended up perched over the gutter like a tightrope walker, before it flew off. I thought there might be poem material there somewhere - then coincidentally, a day or two later, I found the above on the internet. You can see it as a rather charming Youtube video - I tried, but failed, to embed it, so you will need to click on the link.

From my google search it seems that this is the whole poem, although most of Victor Hugo's poems are longer. If I am wrong and anyone can enlighten me as to the rest, please leave a comment.

Victor Hugo (1802 - 1885) was a poet, playwright and novelist. Within France his fame comes first from his poetry, but outside France he is best-known for his plays, Les Miserables and The Hunchback of Notre Dame.

For more Tuesday Poems, visit the main hub site and check out the links in the sidebar.

The Year in Photos: September to December 2011

2012-01-28T19:51:00.001+13:00

Somehow January seems to have raced away on me, but I didn't want to abandon the "year in photos" series half done. So here is a very quick round up of the rest of the year.

September (after returning from holiday);

I started hill walking again

The "Earth from Above" photo exhibition was part of the Christchurch Arts festival.

October:

We had a minor flood.

Which soaked these flags - displayed on a pre-school fence for the Rugby World Cup

The new temporary "Restart" shopping mall opened

But the city's water reservoirs still have earthquake damage that needs fixing - hence, water restrictions this summer.

November:

I took the opportunity to walk into Cathedral Square (the temporary walkway has now closed again, as there are ongoing demolitions)

I took a weekend trip to Wellington, where I had the uneasy feeling of being among high rise buildings for the first time in a long while - here the new reflects the old.

December:

I visited the Antarctic Centre. The penguins are there because they have injuries which mean they are unable to be released into the wild.

Made the traditional Christmas pudding..

Even the most temporary buildings were getting into the Christmas spirit.

Tuesday Poem: Piano, by D H Lawrence

2012-01-23T18:25:00.000+13:00

Piano

Softly, in the dusk, a woman is singing to me;
Taking me back down the vista of years, till I see
A child sitting under the piano, in the boom of the tingling strings
And pressing the small, poised feet of a mother who smiles as she sings.

In spite of myself, the insidious mastery of song
Betrays me back, till the heart of me weeps to belong
To the old Sunday evenings at home, with winter outside
And hymns in the cosy parlour, the tinkling piano our guide.

So now it is vain for the singer to burst into clamour
With the great black piano appassionato. The glamour
Of childish days is upon me, my manhood is cast
Down in the flood of remembrance, I weep like a child for the past.

D H Lawrence 1885 - 1930

I bought quite a few poetry books last year, including the Penguin Classics edition of D H Lawrence's "Selected Poems" which I picked up at Scorpio Books' annual sale. I haven't read it all yet, and previously I was familiar only with "Snake" which we studied at school - not long after the release of his novel "Lady Chatterley's Lover", some thirty years after his death, to a storm of protest over whether or not it should remain banned.

The earlier poems in the book are rhymed metric poems, as in "Piano", from the collection "New Poems" published in 1918. At a quick glance, I prefer these to many of the later, free verse poems - not so much because they are rhymed and metric as because some of the later ones seem a little petulant - full of claims such as "bats are disgusting" and "how beastly the bourgeois are".

This poem is more quietly nostalgic but not without interest. I find it particularly striking that in contrasting the great black piano and the classical singer with the old upright piano of his home, it is the humble childhood to which he ascribes "glamour". And the image of the child sitting under the piano and pressing his mother's feet I find very appealing.

D H Lawrence was born into a miner's family in Nottinghamshire in 1885, the fourth of five children. He wrote novels, plays, short stories and poems. He travelled extensively in Europe, Australia, America and Mexico, and died from tuberculosis in the south of France in 1930 at the age of 44.

For more Tuesday Poems visit the main hub site.

Tuesday Poem: White

2012-01-17T19:24:00.001+13:00

White

1

white is proud
she scorns light's caress
returns all gifts
has no form
does not possess
her own shadows

2

the baptismal gown
the daisy chain
the picket fence
the clean sheet

the fallen petals
the spider’s web
the far mountains
the ghost moon

the sharp fang
the winding cloth
the sepulchre
the bleached bones

I have been tidying up my computer files - initially, a relatively simple system of filing my poems and recording submissions was fine, but over the years the number has grown and the information is scattered, so I have started recording all published poems on one spreadsheet.

"White" is a poem from some years back, first published in Takahe issue 50. I always wanted to make it three sections, but the third didn't want to be found, so it remained at two.

For more Tuesday Poems, visit the main hub site. (Check out the blogs listed in the sidebar).

A Year of Photos: August 2011 part 2

2012-01-15T22:01:00.000+13:00

At the end of August we went for ten days to Queensland - first to Bargara, near Bundaberg for a few days and then a week in Noosa on the Sunshine Coast. I have far too many photos to post all of the halfway interesting ones - I found when selecting that I was drawn most to the wildlife photos. It turns out that on holiday, I like to photograph birds. lot.

First though, one for Carmi since his Thematic Photographic theme this week is "after dark". This is taken in the centre of Bundaberg - not a very large place, but the home of a well-known brand of ginger beer, and a similarly well-known brand of rum.

Now for some Australian birds:

A magpie - I think

One of the many species of honeyeater

Kookaburra

We photographed these baby birds for quite some time, trying to get a good shot. The parents were flying in and out, feeding them. Unfortunately the only shots that I managed to get with the parents in action were blurred.

And some other wildlife:

We saw the goanna when we took a cruise through the Noosa Everglades, and the dingo was spotted on the beach at Fraser Island, where we took a four wheel drive safari - it is all sand dune territory and the roads are very rough.

The sea eagle was perched on a tree in the everglades, too.

Just for variety, a sign from the art gallery in Bundaberg:

And a sunset to round things off:

A Year of Photos: August 2011

2012-01-14T16:46:00.000+13:00

Engineers appeared in our area, checking the soil strength for rebuilding.

There was a craft fair in town:

I found a new area to walk in, which included this beautiful garden:

where I photographed this fellow:

These two were captured at twilight, closer to home:

We had a second big snowfall (this street is near my work - I walked there as it was easier than driving through the snow)

The central city was still cordoned off:

At the end of August we flew away on holiday for ten days, but that deserves its own post.

The Year in Photos: July 2011

2012-01-10T22:36:00.000+13:00

In July I attempted to take photos that weren't earthquake related, such as these smiley balloons (because we could all do with a smile or two)

and the postmen's bicycles lined up outside their depot (something about items in a row that attracts me)

I took another trip out to the seaside suburb of Sumner to see how Shag Rock had fared in the June quakes - not very well:

and to look around the little shops and galleries there

Bandaids were appearing on buildings around town:

This sculpture, erected at the end of 2010, framed the earthquake damaged and cordoned off High Street:

And at the end of the month we had the first of two big snowstorms - almost monochrome, but the Portaloo and orange road cones add a touch of colour.

I ended the month with another smiley photo - I found this one outlined in twigs when shovelling snow in my driveway.

The Year in Photos: June 2011

2012-01-10T22:28:00.001+13:00

Back to the year in photos series:

June was the middle of winter, and I didn't take many photos as the light was mostly gone when I finished work for the day.

Demolition started on our local supermarket which made rather a nonsense of the "welcome" sign.

Demolition of other buildings in the city was revealing interesting graffiti previously hidden.

More large earthquakes struck on June 13th causing liquefaction to appear in the streets again.

But many rallied to help, including this "earthquake dog" spotted in a nearby street.

The scaffolding round the historic Provincial Council Chambers, erected after the February 22 quake, was a tumbled mess of pick up sticks after June 13th.

Knox Church, Bealey Avenue

2012-01-06T22:31:00.000+13:00

Knox Church in Bealey Avenue featured heavily in news footage of the February 22nd earthquake as it is on the edge of the area that was the red zone cordon. It provided the backdrop for much of the commentary on the badly damaged state of the city's many old Anglican churches - despite itself being a Presbyterian church. Much of the brick cladding had fallen off. Since then, almost all the rest has been gradually taken down. The structural supports and the fine timber ceilings, however, are largely undamaged and I understand the church is to be rebuilt. In the last few weeks, the building has been lit from within at night as a sign of hope for the future.

At a media briefing today, scientists finally revealed what we had begun to suspect - that aftershocks may go on for decades (9500 so far). As the briefing came to an end, fittingly, a 5.0 aftershock struck.

It was a long rolling shake, not one of the jolting ones that are much more adrenalin-producing. These days, we don't seem to be bothered much by anything under about 5.5. Even the animals at Orana Park, apparently, are not bothered by the quakes any more. The rhinos which initially were very unsettled by it all, nowadays just lift their heads for a moment or two as if to say "oh, another one?" and go on grazing.

Port Hills Walk

2012-01-03T18:14:00.000+13:00

My first long walk of the New Year today. With many of the tracks closed due to rockfall hazard, I had been itching for variety. The City Council promised that the Rapaki Track would reopen before Christmas, and they were true to their word. The press release announcing its reopening was issued at noon on December 23rd. Within a few hours we had had two more major shakes, and the track was closed again.

There have been walkers and joggers using it regardless - but I hesitate, not so much for fear of rockfall, but out of the knowledge that if something did happen while I was up there, the chances of ready assistance would be lessened due to the numbers of users being so much fewer. Today I headed up the Mt Vernon farm track instead, as I had found that it is open. It is longer and steeper than the Huntsbury track where I have been doing most of my walking, as it starts pretty much at the valley floor, instead of being accessed by a road that goes a good way up the hill. When I reached the top, I walked along the summit a bit and came down the Huntsbury track, and back on the roads to where I had left my car.

I found myself setting my feet on the hard ground, feeling its solidity and marvelling at the fact that it is not always so. It seemed difficult to believe that the ground could split open and boulders could come crashing down the hillside, but that has been the case in the last year. I've been inside buildings for all of the major quakes - either at home or in my office, which is in my boss's home. So I haven't experienced the terror of being on the seventeenth floor of a swaying building, or in a crowded supermarket, or under a crumbling parapet. And I haven't seen, as many have, the ground ripple and wave as if it was as fluid as the ocean. There was only one shock - about a 4.0 - when I was in the garden, and the railway sleeper I was kneeling on bucked like a horse trying to throw me, just for a moment. I felt it rather than saw it. In my mind, it's not the earth that shakes, it's the house, which is a lot easier to cope with, I think.

The flax in the top photo, like me, is between years - one stalk bears last year's dried husks, and one carries this year's flowers.

I tried to photograph the hawk, not very successfully as it was too far away. I'm pretty sure it's a hawk (kahu or Australasian harrier) but if anyone thinks otherwise, leave a comment.

Christchurch is "road cone" city since the earthquakes. This one has been decorated for the season.

The Year in Photos:April & May 2011

2012-01-02T18:55:00.000+13:00

My April and May photo files include plenty of photos of damaged buildings (many of which have now been demolished) but also show that I was seeking out distraction of a more positive nature where I could find it.

In April the army were still manning the central city cordons:

but the Botanic Gardens were open:

and autumn colours were being to show:

I managed to find a walking track on the Port Hills not too far away which was still open:

I visited the Riccarton House craft market:

A certain wedding caused neighbours to celebrate by decorating their fence:

In the carpark of our local supermarket, now being rebuilt, the gulls had taken over as the bumps and hollows caused by the earthquake turned into a bird pond with sandy beaches:

I didn't take many photos in May, but couldn't resist this shot of an earthquake damaged building, revealing the giant papier mache mushroom stored in the shoe shop attic:

Portaloos were still common on the streets, due to damaged sewer systems. Thousands of residents were using either portaloos or chemical toilets. The portaloos came in many different colours - this dark blue one had been turned into a Tardis

and I took this photo, the icon which denotes the Windmill Centre, a shopping area in Riccarton, just because I liked the colours:

The Year in Photos: March 2011

2012-01-01T22:07:00.000+13:00

In March I took photos around the city of ruined buildings

and soldiers in the streets

and then flew out for a week's break on Norfolk Island where the ruins are somewhat older.

We photographed the wildlife:

watched a historic reenactment

enjoyed the scenery

and watched the sunset.

It was a perfect time for a week of doing not very much. Tomorrow I'll explore what happened in April.

The Year in Photos: February 2011

2011-12-31T23:26:00.001+13:00

I didn't take many photos in the first part of February, but I did spot these child sized hard hats lined up on shelves outside a child care centre...

and this fellow posed on top of my recycling bin...

My daughter's peach tree bore a bumper crop. The bottling was done on February 21st...

and miraculously the jars didn't fall off the bench on February 22nd, though much of the rest of the city fell down:

The above photo shows where I was sitting (on the left) when the earthquake struck.

Below, our chimney in the driveway.

With power out for two days, candlelight quickly became unromantic:

Much of the city turned into a giant wet and sloppy sandpit:

and the banks of the river moved together, with the result that most bridges had rather odd V-shaped humps on either side:

The Year in Photos: January 2011

2011-12-30T17:32:00.000+13:00

I haven't participated in Carmi's Thematic Photographic for a while. This week he is asking us to post favourite photos from the past year. While looking through mine, I decided instead to post a collection from each month that somewhat represents the flavour of the month. A large number of the photos are of earthquake damage and were taken more for documentary purposes than for photographic excellence. Still, I think I can find a good selection of other photos as well and I hope you enjoy them.

So, here is January in pictures:

The Christmas lilies were blooming in our garden (no doubt these are called by a different name in the northern hemisphere where they would bloom in June or July).

I took a trip out to Sumner (a seaside suburb of Christchurch) to check on damage to the iconic Shag Rock from the September 2010 earthquake - you can see a freshly exposed rock face where a large slice of it fell away.

More photos from Sumner:

The bird is a shag, also known as a cormorant, and is the bird from which Shag Rock took its name.

One of the little boutique shops that are found in the area.

In the centre of the city, market stalls were operating in Cathedral Square.

I took a ride on the tram, as I have an annual pass for the tram and gondola (which I have been unable to use since February 22nd, as both are out of action - the lost months will be added on when they re-open, but I have no idea when that will be).

This lovely couple were posing in the Square for their wedding photos.

I took photos of earthquake damaged buildings - this is the Durham Street Methodist Church, which sadly collapsed in February, killing three people.

This building in Cashel Street has also now been demolished.

Engineers inspecting a damaged building in Cashel Street Mall - the damage was from the Boxing Day (26th December) aftershock which, though smaller than some, was centred right under the central city.

I captured these two after they had finished their gig at the World Buskers Festival, a regular January event here. (It is much harder to get a good photo of buskers in performance, due to the large crowds attending)

And these two showed up by the river near our house..

I think though, this is my favourite - below an apartment window, a Christmas bauble sat in a shrub. Presumably it had fallen out unnoticed. Taken towards the end of January 2011.

So, that was January - sunny, festive and hopeful that repairs would soon be in full swing in the city. Sadly, February was to be another story.

Post - Christmas Update

2011-12-27T18:44:00.000+13:00

We have had several days beautiful fine weather marred only by the fact that every so often the earth shudders like an animal twitiching in its sleep. Or sometimes, more energetically than that. In fact, since my last post, we had several major aftershocks within a few hours - a 6.0 as well as a couple more of 5 or more. And since then there have been constant smaller aftershocks for the next few days, well over a hundred by now, although they are gradually getting further apart again. There is no obvious worsening of the damage to our house, although today P was checking various cracks and commenting about the need to brace the roof in one spot. Still, I don't think it's about to fall down.

I was glad that none of it started until half an hour or so after I arrived home, having finished my Christmas shopping. The adult offspring though, had put theirs off to the afternoon. Of course on Friday afternoon, all the shops shut to clear up broken glass and spilled liquids, and get engineer's checks (yet again) to make sure the buildings were safe to enter. so they had to brave the crowds on Saturday afternoon among the shops that had managed to reopen.

Most of the shops, if they hadn't reopened Christmas Eve, managed to open for the Boxing Day sales. I don't usually "do" the Boxing Day Sales, as there's nothing I want badly enough to brave that sort of mayhem. Especially with ongoing aftershocks - I'm not scared of being in a shop in an aftershock, but it's gradually dawning on me that edgy crowds and aftershocks are not a good mix, given that some people will panic and stampede for the doors, even though that's not recommended behaviour.

Anyway, my daughter and I headed off to dig silt instead. There was less liquefaction this time than in previous shakes, but there was still a considerable amount in the hard-hit eastern suburbs. Some of it was in areas that have already been largely abandoned, as the ground is too damaged for houses to be rebuilt. But there were plenty of people whose Christmases were marred by land flooded with a sludgy mix of sand, soil and ground water forced up by the shaking - in some cases mixed with sewage from broken pipes. I'm not really up to digging all day, as some volunteers do - but I hope that the few hours we managed made a little bit of difference.

Since then I have been reading Christmas books, napping and pottering around. My intention was to do lots of walking in the three weeks I have off work. So within the next day or so I will probably stir myself to take to the hills and see if all the tracks have been closed again (I'm hoping not - there were fresh rockfalls, but mostly in areas that were already off limits).
There's also the beach - slightly less appealing given that Friday's quakes brought more sewage spills into the waterways - hopefully minor enough to have been washed out to sea within a few days.

Finally, a festive photo from the shipping container dairy in Sydenham - which is surrounded by a growing number of vacant lots where damaged buildings have been pulled down.

And Another One...

2011-12-23T14:11:00.001+13:00

Just when I thought things were settling down, we had another significant aftershock a few minutes ago. My daughter has just reported from Twitter a 6.2 magnitude preliminary estimate. Must be a bit further from us this time as we still have power and internet, I am waiting for the details to show up on geonet.

At least I have all my Christmas shopping done. Sigh...

Update:
Now being reported as 5.8 and centred about 10km off the coast, so a bit further away than the February and June quakes. Shops have been evacuated, phone lines are down in some areas. It's not quite the Christmas present we were looking for.

And here's the seismograph drum for the last half hour or so:

Tuesday Poem: The Idea of Trees

2011-12-20T22:50:00.000+13:00

The Idea of Trees

The cherry tree has had its last revenge,
its thirsty roots seeking out a crack
in the drainpipe, prising it wider.
We call the plumber to dig up the driveway.
We think we love trees, but we don't.
We are in love with the idea of trees,
try to make them fit the confines
of our tidy suburban plots of land.
They are not tame. We are surrounded
by their amputated limbs
where we try to keep them clear
of the gutters and power lines.
Remember the peach tree,
the one that the neighbours cut down
two summers ago? First they picked all the fruit,
arrived on our doorstep with overflowing bags.
Two weeks later we were still eating,
juice dripping down our wrists and elbows,
as we savoured the fruit
of a tree that didn’t exist.

copyright Catherine Fitchett

*******

My final Tuesday Poem for the year. It should probably be something festive, given the season. At least this one mentions fruit - the cherries we associate with Christmas here in the southern hemisphere, and the peaches that will be ripening by late January and early February.

The poem appears in the latest issue of Takahe magazine, which should be hitting subscribers' mail boxes this week. It's a great magazine - one of the few in New Zealand (possibly the only one) - that still manages three issues a year, and well worth supporting.

The cherry tree referred to in the poem used to stand outside our back door. When we first came here, I didn't realise the fruit was edible. The birds always got to it as soon as a hint of red was showing, so we never had much chance. Eventually the tree towered over our two storey house, and one summer I found two very ripe cherries hiding under a leaf where the birds had missed them. They were delicious. After that we tried various ruses to protect some of the fruit from the birds, including netting, but they were very devious. Eventually we had to cut the tree down, because it was just too close to the house for such a large tree.

This is the last week of Tuesday Poem for 2011. It will return on January 17th. In the meantime, I hope to get in some writing time, along with the general relaxing in the sun that comes at this time of year.

Tuesday Poem: Broccoli

2011-12-13T22:08:00.000+13:00

Broccoli

I miss the shops
in low rent buildings
whose owners ran into the street
as the ceilings fell inside
or sheltered under counters
as parapets tumbled into the street
or sometimes made the wrong choices
I miss the corner dairies
with their buckets of flowers on the pavement
where you could buy what you needed –
a bottle of milk, a newspaper,
a lottery ticket, a box of matches
the little local bike shops selling tyres
and puncture repair kits
the second hand clothes shops
the bakeries, the stationers
with their birthday cards, magazines,
envelopes, the immigrant greengrocers
with white lettered windows advertising
TOMATO’S
COLLYFLOWERS
BROKLEY

***********

In November I attempted a challenge to write a poem a day - many of them were written to prompts at the Writer's Digest Poetic Asides blog. As the aim is to produce a chapbook (by editing the poems and submitting them before the end of the year) I wanted a theme to my poems, and thought it would be a good chance to write earthquake poems and get the whole thing out of my system (as if!).

The prompt on one particular day was to take the name of a fruit or vegetable and use it as the title of the poem. When pondering how to write an earthquake poem about fruit or vegetables, this sprung to mind. A lament for all the demolished local shops.

I was a guest reader the other week at the Canterbury Poet's Collective. My writing buddy had said of this poem, that of course it wouldn't work read out loud as the last few lines are rather visual - but I had already figured out what to do about that. All it required was the words written on a large sheet of paper, and an assistant to hold it up at the appropriate moment.

For more Tuesday poems visit the main hub site here.

Tuesday Poem: Don't Knock the Rawleigh's Man, by Vincent O'Sullivan

2011-12-04T21:57:00.001+13:00

Don't Knock the Rawleigh's Man

Don't knock the Rawleigh's Man
when he opens his case and offers you
mixed spices, curry powder, chilblain
ointment, Ready Relief, brilliantine,
don't say Not now, don't think
Piss off, but remember:
think of a hill called Tibi Dabo
behind Barcelona and the legend
that up there Satan
showed J.C. just what he was missing.
What he offered was not simply
the vulgar things - the girls
with buttocks like mounded cream
or enough money in brewery shares
to take a Rotarian's mind off mowing lawns
for octogenarian widows,
or the sort of drink we all know
Vice-Chancellors drink when they drink
with other Vice-Chancellors -
not that but more deftly
the luciferic fingers fondled
buttons nostalgic with little anchors
as in the Mansfield story
and bits of coloured glass from old houses
and variously, these; good punctuation,
unattainable notes, throaty grunts
at bedtime, the nape of the neck
of lovely ladies caught in lamplight
like the perfect compliance of the pitch
in the last over when the last ball
takes the intransigent wicket -
yes, he did. Satan offered those things,
those were the things turned down,
that's how serious it was.
And what was round the corner as we know
was a tree already chopped
waiting to be a cross and a woman
at home rinsing a cloth white as she could
and Joseph of Arimathea still thinking the rock
he had hollowed at phenomenal expense
was going to be his, forever,
not Some Body Else's, for a spell...
So when the bag snaps on your doorstep,
flies open like leather wings
and you see instead of feathers
the tucked-in jars, the notched tubes,
the salves the spices
the lovely stuff of the flesh,
ask him in, go on, in for a moment.
There's no telling what else he might show you -
what mountain he has in mind
you may cast yourself from,
what price that your hair shimmer
like a diving hawk.

- Vincent O'Sullivan

Used with permission

I came across this poem in one of Vincent O'Sullivan's early collections, and loved it immediately. Unfortunately I can't locate which collection it appears in, as our Central Library collections are still largely inaccessible and the branches seem to have mostly more recent volumes. It does also appear in "100 New Zealand Poems" edited by Bill Manhire and published by Godwit Press.

I heard Vincent read it some years back, and he commented that as a small boy, he had wanted to be a Rawleigh's Man when he grew up. The reasons are clear in the poem - the sense of magic when the travelling salesman opens the case and shows his wares. I remember the Rawleighs Man visiting my grandmother. At the time I viewed the products as rather old-fashioned. My grandmother's purchases were the salves and ointments. Even then I must have been a budding scientist, and thought that they were largely snake oil, and of course anyone with any sense would only trust medicines that came on a doctor's recommendation or at least a pharmacist! Later though, I discovered Rawleigh's essences and became quite a fan of their strawberry essence, their orange essence and in particular, butter rum essence which is quite deliciously decadent. The Rawleigh's Man no longer goes door to door as presumably he would find few people home. But the products are still available as the above photo (taken at a Saturday market) shows - and they don't seem to have changed much.

I do love in this poem how it is the small things that Satan offers and that are the most important in life. O'Sullivan's particular small things might not be my choices - the last ball that takes the intransigent wicket, etc, but the principle still applies - and the last two lines, the hair shimmering like a diving hawk (no doubt by the appropriate use of the Rawleigh's Man's products) seems to round it all off perfectly.

For more Tuesday Poems visit the main hub site.

A Walk to the Square

2011-12-04T15:43:00.001+13:00

(More photos later in the post)

For a few weekends, a walkway has been opened from the newly reopened Cashel Mall into Cathedral Square. So, despite a very busy weekend, I squeezed in a bit of time last weekend to get down there and have a look. I wasn't sure if I'd get to see it as there were only 300 people permitted each hour (now increased to 400). However, I thought that if I went down after my poetry workshop which ended at 4 pm, with a quick stop to vote on the way (yes! general election day), I could at least look at the Ballantynes Christmas windows, size up the crowds and see if I could make the walk or not.

As it turned out there was plenty of room. Probably because for the last few weeks there have been bus tours of the red zone in the weekends and evenings. I hadn't been on any of the bus tours as it required phoning to book - but only between the hours of eight and five "and please don't phone between 8 and 9.30 a.m. or at lunchtime when the phone lines are most overloaded." Well hello! some of us are at work during those times. And I'm not in a job where I can tie up the phone for ages will I sit in a "hold" queue.

Actually, I thought the walk option was a better option - it didn't take us as far, but viewing on foot sounded better to me than peering through the windows of a bus. And the city is not that big, you can see much of it from outside the fence just by looking down the empty streets. Cathedral Square was the bit I most wanted to see.

So, I duly read the warnings, went prepared (take a fully charged cell phone, wear sturdy shoes, tell someone where you are going, carry ID on your body not in a bag, and yes you might die - obviously someone was covering their butt when they drew up that list, and I had no expectation of dying, no more than anyone had on February 22nd). I thought that we would be checked as we entered but apart from someone standing there with a clicker to keep count, there was no actual check of cell phones, ID etc.

I took quite a few photos:
That's the Anglican Cathedral at the beginning of this post. It's hard to see how it can be rescued given the state that it is now in.

The Bank of New Zealand building is being prepared for demolition. Upper levels are being emptied out by crane using shipping containers.

The Heritage Hotel appears to be OK still. This is the old part, on the right hand side is a glimpse of the much taller new wing.

Also surviving so far is the old Chief Post Office, now housing and information centre and Starbucks (both of course currently closed).
Not surviving are the historic Press newspaper building, and the Regent Theatre with its beautiful dome, both now completely demolished.

Down a blocked-off and deserted street is the Westpac tower, also I believe due for demolition. The problem with many of these modern buildings is that the soil underneath proved unstable due to the many old creeks and streams in the area, so the foundations are damaged. This makes repairs very difficult.

And back at the mall, the Christmas displays were delighting small children. As part of these, a story-teller reads traditional stories from a large book (papier mache I presume)

(Not a very good picture, I found it hard to eliminate reflections).
As I arrived, the tape had just got to the part of the "Three Little Pigs" where the third little pig is safe and snug in his brick house. And all I could think was "what the...? what were they thinking? Is there any small child in Christchurch who actually thinks you can be safe in a house of bricks?"

Tuesday Poem

2011-11-29T18:46:00.001+13:00

It's a catch-22 - either I am not doing very much, and therefore have spare time for blogging but not much to write about, or I am very busy doing things that I'd quite like to blog about but have no time to post.

I didn't want to miss Tuesday Poem, thus the above photo - my daughter's T-shirt which she won as a result of a competition at a work conference for the best magnetic poem. Having the poem printed on the T-shirt was the prize.

For more Tuesday Poems visit the main hub site.

The Fence

2011-11-23T18:21:00.001+13:00

The fence has been updated.

Here it is not long after the earthquake of September 4,2010:

and here it is as I found it when I passed on my way to work on Monday:

Tuesday Poem: The Person You Love

2011-11-20T22:10:00.001+13:00

The Person You Love

The one you love is 72.8% water

The one you love is a rising torrent,
wet shoes in a flooded basement.
The one you love is a dark pine forest
where you wander without a map.
Rain drips from the branches
and runs down the back of your neck.
The one you love is 72.8% water
and 4.9% grudges.

The one you love is a house on a crumbling headland
under a sky stippled with blackbirds.
The house has many hidden rooms
A woman with a leashed panther
guards the cliff top path.
The one you love is 72.8% water
and 6.1% mystery

The one you love is a crumpled newspaper
and stacked kindling. The one you love
is crackling flames at the touch of a match,
the news ablaze, a burning bride.
The one you love is 72.8% water
and 9.3% fire.

The one you love is an exam for which you haven’t studied.
Your poems in a book published
before you were born.
The one you love
is a girl who carries lions
alongside waves crashing on the shore.

The one you love is 72.8% water,
6.1% mystery, 4.9% grudges,
9.3% fire, and 3.2% salt.

- Catherine Fitchett

"The Person You Love" appears in "Voiceprints 3", a collection of poems recently released by the Canterbury Poets' Collective. Submissions were invited from guest poets and open mic readers from the 2010 season.

The origin of the poem was a phrase I mysteriously found when leafing through old poetry notes - presumably jotted down from a science text or article - "the one you love is 72.8% water". All other percentages in the poem, I have to admit, are entirely my invention. Many of the images are dream fragments.

More Tuesday poems can be found at the main hub site, and at the links in the sidebar of that site.

Tuesday Poem: A Shout, by Michael Harlow

2011-11-15T22:35:00.001+13:00

A Shout

      That wakes the fine calligraphy
of trees; the dark-beaked birds
      that have wintered over,
stitching up the air, waiting
      for that shout of green; and here
this mariner's star, rose of the
      winds, bright flower of sun,
like a stunned bee, in the small
      hours of your hand - waking
from its hive the gold the dark
      has been keeping, the mind's
tenderness to the heart, waiting
      for that shout of green, we
are because love says as much.

- Michael Harlow

Michael Harlow's book, The Tram Conductor's Blue Cap, was a finalist in the 2010 New Zealand Post National Book Awards. At the time, I was very drawn to the poem, All About the World and considered asking Michael if I could use it as a Tuesday Poem. However, it was included in the set of poetry postcards that were widely distributed for National Poetry Day last year, and so I picked up my copy of the book to re-read, and see what other poems I might consider.

We've had a hard year here in Christchurch, and I found that Michael's luminous poems really lifted my spirits. In "Canticle", he speaks of two children who "do no less than risk delight". And in "A Shout" we read of "waking...the gold the dark has been keeping" and of "a shout of green". "All About the World" (which I find is already on the internet at the link above) we read "Poetry is when words sing". Michael's poems certainly make words sing, and deserve to be better known.

Michael Harlow was born in the United States but arrived in New Zealand in 1968. In the 1980s, Harlow was an editor of the Caxton Press poetry series and poetry editor of Landfall. He is a practising Jungian psychotherapist and lives and works in Alexandra, Central Otago. He has published numerous poetry collections including "Today is the Piano's Birthday" (1981), Giotto's Elephant" (1991) and "Cassandra's Daughter" (2005). He has written libretti in collaboration with composer Kit Powell, and prose including "Take a Risk, Trust Your Language, Make a Poem" (1986).

For more Tuesday Poems visit the main hub site.

Wellington

2011-11-11T22:12:00.001+13:00

I took heaps of photos while I was in Wellington last weekend. Some of familiar places, and some to show how things had changed. Many of them are not of great quality, but that wasn't really the point.

I loved these quirky murals:

The buildings around Plimmers Steps seem to be getting more modern and shiny, but Plimmer and his wee dog are still there:

Reflections show the mix of old and new buildings:

This arcade was once a bank. I remember going there with my mother, in the days when the tellers were tucked away in their cubicles of polished wood, with fancy wrought iron grille work.

The tile pattern seems familiar - I think it may be the one also found in the Christchurch Cathedral.

I couldn't help thinking of earthquake risk every time I looked at an old building, and wondering when.

It's not really a matter of "if". Wellington sits right on a fault line. In fact the land that the airport is built on didn't exist before 1855, when an earthquake joined Miramar - then an island - to the mainland and raised much of the shoreline. Hopefully, any future earthquake will be far enough in the future that there will have been time to successfully earthquake strengthen the buildings.

Tuesday Poem: Evidence

2011-11-08T18:04:00.000+13:00

Evidence

We should have been kinder to spiders.
We should have checked for nests in the chimneys,
bees in the attic, wasps in the garden.
We should have planted dandelions.
They grow anyway. Better to believe
we wanted it that way.

We should never have built roosts for the chickens.

We should have listened to the canary
when it sang the song of the microwave
and the vacuum cleaner.
We should have sorted the dark days
from the light before washing,
to avoid the accumulation of lint.

We should never have alphabetised our grudges.

We built our quarrels on faultlines
We should have been better prepared
for truthquakes

Look, here comes a man
with a stick of chalk
Lie down so that he can outline our bodies
to be photographed
and used as evidence.

- Catherine Fitchett 2010

I made a quick trip to Wellington at the weekend for the launch of the New Zealand Poetry Society anthology Ice Diver. This is the result of their 2011 poetry competition and takes its title from Sue Wootton's wonderful winning poem. The poem above, Evidence, is my own contribution to the anthology, which I read at the launch.

New Zealand is a shaky country. Earthquakes are part of our vocabulary. So although this was written prior to the big Canterbury earthquakes of the last year or so, a phrase or two crept in. It's not an earthquake poem, it is a relationship poem. The trigger for the poem was actually the phrase "chalk outline". I heard it on a TV programme and suddenly felt all tingly, so I knew I had to try to use it in a poem somehow.

The launch was just an excuse to go to Wellington really as I had been meaning to go for some time. I have spent almost exactly half my life in Wellington - the first half - and the other half in Christchurch, and have relatives in Wellington still, so I feel as if I have two homes although I don't get up there nearly as much as I'd like. An added attraction now is the opportunity to meet up with other Tuesday Poets, which we did on Friday night. If you go to the main Tuesday Poem site and check the sidebar, you will be able to see what the rest of the Tuesday Poets are posting this week.

November Poetry Challenge

2011-11-06T17:58:00.000+13:00

I decided rather at the last minute to participate in the November Poem-a-Day Challenge at Writers' Digest.

It seemed like a good way to get going again, since I haven't written much this year. Also, since the aim is a 10 to 20 poem chapbook, presumably somewhat linked in theme, a good way to write a lot of earthquake poems and get that out of the way, then maybe I can move on to other things.

I won't post them all here - if any are really bad, I may not post them, and if any might be tweaked for later publication, I probably won't post those either. So - this one falls somewhere in the middle. The prompt for today (Day 5, since we are a day ahead of the US so I didn't start till November 2nd) was to write a "broken" poem. Which was a bit problematic, given that so much around here is broken, I wasn't quite sure where to start.

Everyone here has a story and this is ours.
How the insurance assessor pronounced our chimney sound
Then the city shook for a third time and the chimney
sheared off at the roofline, took a leap
over the side of the house
and crashed through the eaves to land in the driveway.
The assessor, from halfway down the ladder,
leapt to the ground to find his car blocked in.
When the builder took the remains of the chimney
to be dumped, he found
it was a tonne of bricks.
It fell like a tonne of bricks.

Lost Buildings

2011-11-04T09:12:00.000+13:00

I haven't joined in on Carmi's "Thematic Photographic" game for the last few weeks. When I saw that this week's theme was bricks and mortar I was in two minds as to whether to join in. I have plenty of photos of brick buildings - most of them badly damaged. After a while, it can get a bit much at times.

This is the old Christchurch library buildings. I didn't grow up in Christchurch, but I had relatives here, and spent many holidays here. So I was quite familiar with the Christchurch children's library. The buildings had long since been converted to professional rooms, but were still lovely, and had many fond memories for me. However, they were badly damaged by earthquake - I'm not sure quite which one sealed the fate of the building - and it was pronounced they had to be demolished. The final photo is not actually the library buildings, although that was my intention when I took it. It is actually a corner one block away. But then, one pile of rubble looks very much like the next pile of rubble. Which is why we all wonder, when we can move freely through the central city again, how we will be able to get out bearings.

Sad news this morning, that the Christchurch Cathedral has been issued with a demolition order. The church now has to come up with a plan within ten days or have it compulsory demolished by CERA (the Canterbury Earthquake Recovery Authority). I'm not sure that demolishing everything in sight, even if supposedly unsafe, is the best way to "recover". We had all hoped that the cathedral would be at least partially saved.

In Which We Get More Colours

2011-10-30T22:46:00.001+13:00

First we had the red zone, which was the cordoned off area in the central city. We still have that red zone, though it has shrunk over time, and is no longer guarded by the army.

Then we had another red zone, along with orange, green and white zones. This red zone, which is not the same as the first red zone, consists of residential areas where the land is too damaged to rebuild on without extensive repair work, and so the government is taking over all the land, and the residents have to move. The green zone is "OK to repair and rebuild", orange is "more information needed" and white is "not yet assessed" (mainly hill areas where there is a high risk of rockfall).

The orange areas were gradually being decided on and turning either red or green. And then on Friday we had a whole bunch more reassessments, so now we have red, a small area still orange, and a larger green area which is also either blue, yellow or grey.

Our near neighbours who were zoned orange are now zoned green (as we were, all along). But we are also blue which means supposedly that the land is at high risk of liquefaction in a future quake. (Despite the fact that we have had no liquefaction whatsoever in any of the 12 or so significant quakes, and around another 8000 aftershocks, so far.) It seems that this means that our repairs can go ahead as long as they don't involve foundations. If repairs to foundations are required, or significant rebuilding, then there will have to be a site-specific geotechnical report, and/or deep pile foundations, designed to new building standards that haven't actually been written yet.

For our own house, we should be OK, except that since we have new damage since our assessment was completed, we will probably have to be assessed again. EQC are claiming they will finish assessments by Christmas, but I think that means assessments from the February 22nd quake. So I have no idea when anything will happen about assessments from the June quake or October 5.5 aftershock.

The other likely consequence of being zoned blue, as far as I can see, is that our insurance premiums will go up significantly.

A small area on the west of the city is grey which means that no change is needed to foundation requirements. Most of the city is yellow which means slightly stricter standards which will supposedly add $5000 to the cost of building a house. As far as I can see, they are the standards that prevailed until twenty years or so ago anyway, when everything was relaxed and builders started putting a concrete slab on the ground instead of building proper foundations.

I'm not sure what it is with all the colours - the zones are TC1, TC2 and TC3 which would seem to be adequate without getting crayons out of the box, except that it does I suppose make it easier to display all the information on maps.

Restarting the Heart

2011-10-29T22:33:00.002+13:00

Today I headed down to Cashel Street for the opening of a new retail precinct. Most of the buildings in this street (the City Mall) have been demolished, making it safe to enter! - and dozens of shipping containers have been moved in and converted to modern-looking shops.

We arrived just as someone - either the Prime Minister or the Mayor, I couldn't see - was about to declare it open. The shops on the left of this photo are among the few buildings still standing in the street, but they are not occupied, presumably being in need of repair still.

Once the crowd started moving, we headed towards Scorpio Books, who had chosen the opening day for the start of their annual sale.

It was rather crowded inside but I did manage to come away with some purchases, mostly poetry.

I explored a bit further. This is Johnson's, a specialty grocery store. It lacks its former old world atmosphere, but they have kept their old fashioned delivery bicycle.

Ballantynes department store is operating partly from its former premises, the undemolished part, and partly from containers. Inside, a trio was providing entertainment

while outside, this busker drew a large crowd.

More brightly coloured container shops.

The Bridge of Remembrance stands at the start of the Mall. However, due to earthquake damage the bridge itself is still closed. The carpark on the left of the photo stands on the site of the Bog, among other shops, an Irish bar where I have enjoyed a few pub quiz nights in the past.

Apparently around 10,000 people enjoyed the opening. It will be interesting to see how successful these shops are longer term. Will people come into town just to shop, given that all the lawyers, accountants, and hotel guests who would normally shop here have closed down or moved away from the central city?

Tuesday Poem: Ulysses, by Alfred Lord Tennyson

2011-10-25T19:25:00.000+13:00

Ulysses

It little profits that an idle king,
By this still hearth, among these barren crags,
Match'd with an aged wife, I mete and dole
Unequal laws unto a savage race,
That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me.
I cannot rest from travel: I will drink
Life to the lees: all times I have enjoy'd
Greatly, have suffer'd greatly, both with those
That loved me, and alone; on shore, and when
Thro' scudding drifts the rainy Hyades
Vext the dim sea: I am become a name;
For always roaming with a hungry heart
Much have I seen and known; cities of men
And manners, climates, councils, governments,
Myself not least, but honour'd of them all;
And drunk delight of battle with my peers,
Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy.
I am a part of all that I have met;
Yet all experience is an arch wherethro'
Gleams that untravell'd world, whose margin fades
For ever and for ever when I move.
How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
To rust unburnish'd, not to shine in use!
As tho' to breathe were life. Life piled on life
Were all too little, and of one to me
Little remains: but every hour is saved
From that eternal silence, something more,
A bringer of new things; and vile it were
For some three suns to store and hoard myself,
And this gray spirit yearning in desire
To follow knowledge, like a sinking star,
Beyond the utmost bound of human thought.

This is my son, mine own Telemachus,
To whom I leave the sceptre and the isle--
Well-loved of me, discerning to fulfil
This labour, by slow prudence to make mild
A rugged people, and thro' soft degrees
Subdue them to the useful and the good.
Most blameless is he, centred in the sphere
Of common duties, decent not to fail
In offices of tenderness, and pay
Meet adoration to my household gods,
When I am gone. He works his work, I mine.
There lies the port: the vessel puffs her sail:
There gloom the dark broad seas. My mariners,
Souls that have toil'd and wrought, and thought with me--
That ever with a frolic welcome took
The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed
Free hearts, free foreheads--you and I are old;
Old age hath yet his honour and his toil;
Death closes all; but something ere the end,
Some work of noble note, may yet be done,
Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.
The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks:
The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep
Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends,
'Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western stars, until I die.
It may be that the gulfs will wash us down:
It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,
And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.
Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho'
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

- Alfred, Lord Tennyson

This is not the poem I planned to post today, however it came to mind for a couple of reasons - firstly, a discussion at my newly formed small writers' group last week, and secondly - the victory celebrations in Christchurch today for the Rugby World Cup. I'm not much of a rugby follower, really, but it seemed that a "heroic" poem was appropriate to the occasion.

Chunks of this one are very familiar to me, as I had to memorise it in my teenage years when I was taking speech classes for a year or so. Although it is probably less meaningful to a teenager than to someone approaching the other end of life - and I would have to admit that (even though my grandmother lived to 104), my life is almost certainly more than halfway through!

For more Tuesday poems, visit the main hub site here.

Autumn Poetry in Springtime

2011-10-20T22:57:00.002+13:00

First the venue for the CPC (see below) autumn series was lost because the landlord didn't renew the lease of the Madras Cafe Bookshop.
So they found a new venue which was destroyed in the February earthquake.

And finally, the series is underway - what should have been the autumn series is now the spring series:

Canterbury Poets Collective (CPC) presents
Poetry in Performance the 2011 Spring Season

The new big fat comfortable venue is the CPIT Students
Association (CPSA) Hall, at 5 Madras Street and about 300
meters south of our well loved Madras Café and Book Shop.

Open mic and guest readers. Wednesdays at 6.30 pm, $5 entry
Audience vote for the Best Open Mic Poet, see 7 December below.

19 October Vincent O'Sullivan, Jan Hutchison, Christina Stachurski,
Launch of VoicePrints3, featuring BYO & Visiting poets from 2010.
26* October Diana Bridge, Rodney Foster, Helen Bascand.
2* November Selina Marsh, Mark Raffills, Helen Jacobs.
9* November Bill Manhire, Steve Thomas, Dina Durrer.
16 November David Eggleton, Poets of The Hagley Writers' Institute.
23 November Vana Manasiadis, Gail Collier, James Norcliffe.
30 November Sarah Broom, Catherine Fitchett, Sandy Bain.
7 December Winning Open Mic Poets from the season.

Unfortunately I was unable to attend the first event but I am looking forward to next week, and to seeing a copy of VoicePrints3, in which I have a poem published.

Tuesday Poem: Hatch, by Frankie McMillan

2011-10-17T22:45:00.001+13:00

Hatch

Sweetheart, I have fooled you again
telling you the empty emu egg
contains a tiny chick inside

We hollow a nest in the black bean bag
you sit, solemn faced, bare legs
crossed to keep in the warmth

You ask when your baby will be born
and I say it will take a little while
for feathers, a beating heart to form

and you sigh as if all your life
you knew this to be true
Time passes, you stand to check

your shell, finger the white dimpled
surface, smoothing your cheek over
the big circumference of egg

We talk of names; Malaya and Bim
and whether they will become dancers
or singers in whirly pink skirts,

whether to scatter breadcrumbs
in the woods or as night falls to
whisper a counting game to ten

The house is quiet as you sit upright
hands under your armpits, your wings
stiffened with these small hopes

And then it happens - the bean bag rustles
you rise, cupping hands as if in a dream
of china milk jugs and wedding gowns

and oh, how you almost convince
as you offer the sky your palms
See my chickens! See my chickens!

Published with permission of the author.

Christchurch writer Frankie McMillan's poetry collection Dressing for the Cannibals was released in 2009. Frankie has an MA in Creative Writing from Victoria University, has published short stories and in 2009 won the New Zealand Poetry Society International Poetry Competition.

Many of the poems in Dressing for the Cannibals include slightly surreal elements, with wonderful titles like "Why my son lives in the sky", "Undressing my ancestors", "The piano learns to swim" and the title poem "Dressing for the cannibals". And yet, despite the touch of surrealism, the poems always manage to convince - something they share with both the narrator in this poem, and the young granddaughter who is perhaps not so much fooled, as in on the pretence.

For more Tuesday Poems, visit the main hub site.

Weekend Roundup

2011-10-15T23:05:00.001+13:00

We have been having some great weather lately - at least on Thursdays. I sit in the office with the sun pouring in, and think about getting out on to the hills over the weekend. And then Friday comes (which is the start of the weekend for me), and it's grey and cold.

I went walking anyway, yesterday and today. No photos yesterday, because I was hunkered down in my raincoat against the weather, and cloud and mist don't make for great views. Today though, once I had got started, it cleared enough for a few photos.

There are better views from the track on the other side of the hill, but that one is closed due to the rockfall hazard after the earthquake. With at least nine thousand unstable boulders identified, I think it will be a good while, if ever, before all the tracks are open again.

All the shops that were in collapsed or damaged buildings, or that are locked out of the cordoned off central city, are scrambling for new homes. Sydenham and Addington, two formerly rather run-down suburbs, are suddenly becoming trendy. I used to shop at the Spotlight Plaza in Sydenham, chiefly for Spotlight - a budget fabric, craft and homeware store - and Payless Plastics, where you can get all sorts of plastic containers, among other things. Now the building has been renamed "the Colombo" and it's going upmarket. I went to have a look at Bolt of Cloth, primarily to drool. They stock beautiful furnishing and craft fabric. Their new shop is much smaller than their old one, and they seem to be stocking more items like china and tea towels. But I was very taken with their solution to the space problem.

That rack in the background of the photo displays "fat quarters" of fabric (a half a metre of fabric, cut in half lengthwise). But a closer look reveals that it slides, to reveal another rack behind, and another, and another... five in all. I would love to have one of those in my sewing room.

Most of the other new shops are clothes shops and most of them are out of my price range. Their are rumours that Spotlight is moving, so it may be that Bolt of Cloth will be my only reason to come back here. I have it on good authority that some of the tenants are being paid considerable sums to terminate leases early, so that the landlord can acquire new tenants willing to pay higher rents. It will be interesting to see how it turns out.

We had a 5.5 aftershock last Sunday - the biggest since June 13th and 12th biggest overall. The shake itself didn't bother me. But I found myself feeling somewhat down in the next few days, because it seems as if it will never end, and constant aftershocks are delaying progress on settling insurance claims and rebuilding. But there are hopeful signs. A new bus exchange is opening in a week or so. Instead of having to take one bus to the south of the city, a second shuttle bus around the perimeter, and a third bus from the north side, commuters on some routes will be able to take just one bus that goes right across the city again. There are also new bus routes starting to cater for the fact that all the lawyers, accountants and so on are concentrated in different parts of the city than they were before.

There are also plans to start opening some of the cordoned-off areas soon, starting with the City Mall, where there will be a lot of pop-up shops in converted shipping containers. That's because so many buildings have been demolished. There are also going to be bus tours through the cordoned-off areas, starting November 5th. I'm not sure how much there is left to see, though.

Back to fabric - our local library has a display of quilts from the quilting group run for refugee and migrant women. This display runs every October and I always enjoy seeing the colourful quilts in the library.

This was my favourite, and has me itching to get out fabrics and play with them. Though I'm not at all short of unfinished projects already.

Tuesday Poem: Scotland Yet, by Jessie Miller

2011-10-11T22:33:00.000+13:00

Scotland Yet

My heart is far away in that dear land
Of heath-clad, purple hills and rocky strand,
Where spreading bracken in their shadows hide
The wild, sweet violets growing side by side,

Where silver streamlets softly wind their way,
And murmur music sweetly all the day,
Or dash in cascades down the mountain's side,
And streak the russet moorland, wild and wide.

I hear again the lark's glad, joyous song
Poured forth in thrilling torrents clear and strong,
As up he soars to greet the dawning morn,
Whose shafts of light proclaim the day is born,

Where bright-eyed daisies deck the verdant lea
And wild rose garlands lure the passing bee,
Where graceful bluebells and the primrose pale
With golden daffodils adorn the vale.

And when the sky is grey and leaves are shed
And birds have ceased to sing and flowers are dead,
When tempests fiercely rage and high seas roll
And storm and dark combine to awe the soul,

My heart but loves thee more, and fain would fly
Where white mists gleam and deep snows drifted lie,
Where danger waits to meet the sons of toil,
To make them strong defenders of their soil.

Brave Scotland, where the flowers in beauty spring,
We far away thy songs will ever sing,
And though for Empire's sake we widely roam
Our hearts still turn to thee, our father's home.

- Jessie Miller

*******

Last week I posted a poem which was also an advertisement. This week's poem has more serious intent, but much of the same patriotic Scottish sentiment. Jessie Miller was a distant relative of mine and her book of poems, Duty and Ease, is in my collection of family history materials. She wrote at about the time of the First World War, and her poems were published regularly in the Kinross Advertiser, so she seems to have been quite well-renowned, in her local area at least.

Many of the poems are quite martial and stirring, as well as pious - no doubt intended to uplift at a time when the nation was at war. They may seem quaint now, but I wonder what will future generations make of the bulk of poetry written now? Only time will tell what has lasting value and what doesn't.

I've been a bit lax lately in sending out requests for permission to post poems, or in writing any of my own, but I hope to remedy that in the next few weeks and post something more modern.
In the meantime, for more Tuesday Poems, visit the main hub site.

Tuesday Poem: The Emigrant's Farewell

2011-10-04T23:12:00.000+13:00

The Emigrant's Farewell.

Farewell to bonnie Scotland! to the mountains and the glen,
The land of love and freedom of fair women and brave men.
The good ship now outspreads her wings to bear us o'er the foam
Far, far from Caledonia and our Native Highland home.

Farewell to him who served me well with famous boots and shoes
A parting word of gratitiude to him we can't refuse
His boots through many changing years have well adorned our feet
Enabling old and young to walk in ease and comfort sweet.

Farewell to friends and kinsfolk - shall we ever see them more?
Or shall our bones be laid to rest on yonder far off shore?
We know not - but we hope and trust we shall not seek in vain
For Scottish hearts both leal and true across th' atlantic main.

Farewell Auld Scotland it may prove a long and last adieu;
But though the glistening tear should dint our last fond look at you
Our heads are cool, are hearts are firm and we have for our feet
A stack of LECKIE'S BOOTS AND SHOES FROM 50 COCKBURN STREET.

***

This poem was originally published in an advertisement on the front page of The Scotsman, June 5th 1882. It's blatantly commercial, of course. But somehow, I fell in love with it for its peculiarly Scottish mix of sentimentality and practicality.

My Scottish ancestors set out for New Zealand, and their siblings and cousins to many other countries, in the 19th century, and may well have been shod in Leckie's boots and shoes. And no doubt there was a glistening tear or two on their cheeks when they left their friends and relatives behind.

I like the fact that advertisements back then didn't have to grab the attention quite so quickly as they seem to nowadays, leaving room for a four stanza poem, instead of a quick sound bite slogan.

For more Tuesday Poems, visit the main hub site.

What I Have Been Doing

2011-10-01T22:47:00.001+13:00

The blog has been a bit neglected lately with the change of seasons. Spring brings with it the urge for change and I have found myself exercising more - long walks as part of a weight loss regime - and trying to take control of the garden.

Not that I have great plans for the garden - I'm anticipating that when earthquake repairs are done - both to the house and all the walls and fences - there will be men in big muddy boots trampling all over the place, and shrubs cut back to better access the walls and foundations. This won't happen any time soon but it doesn't seem worth planting anything too long-lived in the meantime. So I'll be relying a lot on annuals for colour - especially the ones that like to plant themselves, like alyssum and cornflowers. In the meantime, my gardening efforts are mainly confined to keeping lawns under control, pruning, and weeding.

As for the walks - everything is affected by earthquakes around here. My favourite walking tracks on the Port Hills are almost all closed due to rock fall hazard. It would be entirely possible to walk on them anyway, since the closure amounts to a small sign at the start of each track saying "This track is closed due to rockfall hazard". But the idea of walking under towering cliffs, given the 8000 or so aftershocks we've experienced in the last year, isn't very appealing. Especially with the thought that if anything did happen, since the track is closed, there probably won't be too many people coming along to find me and help out. So I have been exploring a bit further afield for my walks, rather than confine myself to the one nearby track that is still open - since it runs along the top of a spur, and there is not much above to fall down.

Today I headed up to the carpark at the Sign of the Kiwi, at the top of Dyers Pass, and headed south along the Crater Rim walkway by the Summit Road. There are plenty spots where there are spectacular views of Lyttelton Harbour below. There are also lots of side tracks which head down the steep slopes towards the harbour, but these appear to be all closed due to the rockfall hazard, so the main track is pretty much the only option. Still, since I haven't walked this part before, it was interesting enough, and next time I will probably take the car further along the road, and start from the spot I reached today before turning around to head back.

Spring means lots of lambs, including this little black-faced one:

And gorse with a dense cover of yellow blossom:

The gorse was brought in by the early English settlers, for hedging on their farms. We wince now at their lists of supplies which include items such as "10lbs of gorse seed". They didn't realise how invasive and unwanted it would become in the milder New Zealand climate. It does look spectacular in spring, though.

The photo of Lyttelton Harbour with gorse in the foreground was taken from a few metres along one of the closed side tracks. The sign pointed to a lookout, however I wasn't prepared to go any further to find it, especially when I caught sight of this boulder complete with spray painted number.

The rock is about twice my height so would make quite a mess if it fell on top of me. I realised when I uploaded my photos that it is rather blurred, however as it's the only one I have, I decided to post it anyway.

Tuesday Poem: Minor Repairs

2011-09-27T22:03:00.001+13:00

Minor Repairs

A daddy goes away in the morning
and comes back at night. Moon
comes at night and goes away
in the morning. They say
there’s a man in the moon.
But she thinks that’s silly,
because all the daddies come back
when the moon comes out.
She likes to put a tie round her neck
and carry a briefcase down the stairs
like daddy. But she doesn’t know
what he does when he goes away.
so then she pretends to be daddy
coming back. When daddy comes back
he fixes things. He glues wheels
on her toy cars, and he makes new pieces
for her puzzles. Maybe he fixes things all day.
He must be very busy fixing other people’s things.
Sometimes hers have to wait.
Daddy has a big box with broken things
he hasn’t had time to fix.
The moon though, that’s another matter.
It’s a big round piece of white plastic,
and it breaks every month,
and then daddy sticks it together
and puts it back in the sky.

I've sent this poem out with submissions a few times, and on each occasion the editor concerned preferred others from the selection I sent, so I decided to let it free on my blog instead. I always find the workings of children's minds fascinating. The poem perhaps has a slightly old-fashioned flavour, given that it involves a stay at home mother and a professional father - but then, that's the way it was in our family at the time. And my daughter really was convinced that Daddy mended the moon every month.

For more Tuesday Poems, visit the main hub site.

Tuesday Poem: Spring, by Gerard Manley Hopkins

2011-09-20T19:11:00.000+12:00

Nothing is so beautiful as spring—
When weeds, in wheels, shoot long and lovely and lush;
Thrush’s eggs look little low heavens, and thrush
Through the echoing timber does so rinse and wring
The ear, it strikes like lightnings to hear him sing;
The glassy peartree leaves and blooms, they brush
The descending blue; that blue is all in a rush
With richness; the racing lambs too have fair their fling.

What is all this juice and all this joy?
A strain of the earth’s sweet being in the beginning
In Eden garden.—Have, get, before it cloy,
Before it cloud, Christ, lord, and sour with sinning,
Innocent mind and Mayday in girl and boy,
Most, O maid’s child, thy choice and worthy the winning.

- Gerard Manley Hopkins, 1844 -1889

Another favourite spring poem this week. Surprisingly, I find this year the weeds in my garden aren't quite as "long and lovely and lush" as usual at this time. I must have been keeping up with the weeding over winter.

What I haven't been keeping up with so much is writing. Since returning from holiday, I'm trying to get back into a routine - using the site 750 words to write every day, and noting down six simple observations each day. The poetry ideas are stirring, now I just have to find time to get to them. And I have several of last year's poems appearing in publications soon, after which they will be available to post here.

For more Tuesday poems, visit the main hub site.

Tuesday Poem: from A Shropshire Lad, by A E Housman

2011-09-13T19:08:00.001+12:00

Loveliest of trees, the cherry now
Is hung with bloom along the bough,
And stands about the woodland ride
Wearing white for Eastertide.

Now, of my threescore years and ten,
Twenty will not come again,
And take from seventy springs a score,
It only leaves me fifty more.

And since to look at things in bloom
Fifty springs are little room,
About the woodlands I will go
To see the cherry hung with snow.

- A E Housman (1859-1936)

A E Housman was an English poet best known for his cycle "A Shropshire Lad", published in 1896, from which this poem is taken. As Housman died in 1936 the poem is a few years out of copyright (70 years after the author's death, in England and America, although only fifty years in New Zealand). At this time of year it seems entirely appropriate to post one of my favourite springtime poems - although I suspect the photo is not, in fact, a cherry, but may be some other species of prunus, or even apple blossom.
We are often away in September and I seem to miss spring blossom often, so I was pleased this year to be back early enough in the month to enjoy both the blossom and the daffodils. And to remind myself that I almost certainly have fewer than fifty springs left to "look at things in bloom".
For more Tuesday Poems, visit the main hub site.

Back Home

2011-09-10T12:36:00.001+12:00

I had a great break away in Queensland, but it's worth coming home for this:

And this:

We have real seasons here - not just "wet" and "dry". And September is one of the best.The view of the Southern Alps from the plane does double duty as my contribution to Carmi's theme for the week - White. I would also have aerial views of the Canterbury Plains, but they always make us turn off our phones and digital cameras by that stage in the journey. Next time, perhaps I'll buy a digital film camera, as the views are always stunning.

Tuesday Poem: I'm Starting to Speak the Language, by Nicole Cooley

2011-08-22T22:34:00.000+12:00

I’M STARTING TO SPEAK THE LANGUAGE

of disaster, he says and we keep driving through Mississippi,
Highway 90, Hurricane Alley, on our way to New Orleans,
while Johnny Cash sings, Go on, I’ve had enough.
Dump my blues down in the Gulf.
And he says, that one’s blue-roofed, that one’s gone,
and we stop to see an address on a tabletop leaned
against a tree, a FEMA number spray-painted on wood.
There’s no house. Private Property. Keep Out. Do Not Demo.
We are here together on a tour of the Gone: three porch steps
For Sale By Owner, a beached trolley at the edge
of the road like a huge stunned animal -- Tour Historic Biloxi!—
Gulfport Economy Inn. IHOP. Jefferson Davis’s Beauvoir House.
All that’s left of an address he calls the new lexicon,
the spray-painted X, the house marked O,
Dog Found. Stone foundation threaded with weeds
that are no language. Still, you can tell
where a house once stood, he says, by the clearing.
A front gate is For Sale by Owner. All that’s left
of an address. Missing a whole story.

- Nicole Cooley

One of the blogs I read regularly is Brian Brodeur's How a Poem Happens. Each post contains a poem and an interview which reveals how it came about.

Last week I found this poem by Nicole Cooley there. She has kindly allowed me to repost it for Tuesday Poem. For the related interview, visit this link.

Although the situation in New Orleans, and Mississippi, is not the same as the situation in Christchurch, I felt immediate recognition on reading this poem. We too, are starting to learn the language of disaster. The signs spray-painted on our buildings may not be quite the same, but the emotional territory is recognisable. "All clear" we read, as we travel round the city, "No Go", times and dates that buildings are checked, and others are labelled with contact details for the owners and engineers, in the hopes that they will not be demolished without notice. And then there is the growing number of vacant sections as damaged buildings come down.

I'm about to take a blogging break for a couple of weeks, but particularly wanted to post this powerful poem before I take a much-anticipated break from earthquakes and snowstorms. For more Tuesday Poems visit the main hub site.

A Month of Photos #28

2011-08-21T23:05:00.000+12:00

This drill has appeared at the bottom of our street in the last couple of days. They are testing the soil to see if it is strong enough to build on again. Apparently they drilled down a couple of metres and then hit water. Water was pouring out of the drill under pressure when I went past, and I heard that it goes a long way down, which is not good news for all the houses along the river.

If the land is not good, then there is no point repairing the houses, because no insurance company will cover them. (And we are still getting shakes - two of magnitude 4+ yesterday, after a few quieter weeks). So areas of the city where the land needs remediation are being declared "red zones", and all the residents will receive buy out offers from the government. Then the houses will be removed, and the land repaired (a very long term project). Then, at some time in the future, it may be built on again.

Close to 10,000 houses have already been declared red-zoned. The houses at the end of our street closest to the river and all the houses on the road bordering the river, are currently orange-zoned, which meanse "further investigation is required". Which is where the guys with the drill come in.

I'm very thankful that the land under our house is OK. And concerned for my neighbours who may be not so fortunate.

A Month of Photos #27

2011-08-20T21:16:00.000+12:00

I've been indoors all day until after dark (at a bridge tournament) so I'm posting another photo from the craft fair yesterday. I liked the fragmented reflections of the stall opposite in these mosaic mirrors, described as "quake art" (wonky houses and cathedrals, mostly).

A Month of Photos #25 & 26

2011-08-19T22:46:00.000+12:00

I missed a couple of days, so I'm posting two today. I went to the Dunkley's Great New Zealand Craft Show. We missed out on it last year because of the September earthquake. Parts of the Addington Raceway where it is held each year are damaged, but there are enough good buildings for it to go ahead. It was good to see some of the stallholders displaced from the Arts Centre, which is severely damaged.

I included this second one as it is "glass" week at Carmi's blog, here.

A Month of Photos #24

2011-08-18T20:48:00.000+12:00

A couple of days of rain have washed away quite a bit of the snow, but there is still plenty on the hills, and on the roadside verges on this side of town. (We were on the north side of town last night and found it was quite a bit clearer).

This was taken after work, when the sun had finally come out and we had a glimpse of blue sky.

Tuesday Poem: The Snowstorm, by Ralph Waldo Emerson

2011-08-16T19:39:00.000+12:00

The Snowstorm

Announced by all the trumpets of the sky,
Arrives the snow, and, driving o'er the fields,
Seems nowhere to alight; the whited air
Hides hills and woods, the river, and the heaven,
And veils the farmhouse at the garden's end.
The sled and traveller stopped, the courier's feet
Delayed, all friends shut out, the housemates sit
Around the radiant fireplace, enclosed
In a tumultuous privacy of storm.

Come, see the north wind's masonry.
Out of an unseen quarry evermore
Furnished with tile, the fierce artificer
Curves his white bastions with projected roof
Round every windward stake or tree or door.
Speeding, the myriad-handed, his wild work
So fanciful, so savage, naught cares he
for number or proportion. Mockingly

On coop or kennel he hangs Parian wreaths;
A swan-like form invests the hidden thorn;
Fills up the farmer's lane from wall to wall,
Maugre the farmer's sighs; and at the gate
A tapering turret overtops the work.
And when his hours are numbered, and the world
Is all his own, retiring, as he were not.
Leaves, when the sun appears, astonished Art
To mimic in slow structures, stone by stone,
Built in an age, the mad wind's night-work,
The frolic architecture of the snow.

- Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-1882)

I had a couple of spring poems that I was considering for today's post, but then the snow arrived and neither seemed quite appropriate, so I went on a quick search for a winter poem instead.

I cleared the driveway enough last night to get my car out this morning - but more snow fell in the night, so when I got up I found I was back where I started. In the end I decided to walk to work. It usually takes me about half an hour, today it was more like fifty minutes. The first bit was the toughest, once I reached a main road I just walked in the tracks left by cars.

I was quite relieved to be given a lift home in the boss's son-in-law's four wheel drive again, as he finished work a half an hour before me. The drive way is clear again - enough to get the car out - but whether it will remain so tomorrow I don't know.

My boss is very good about paying me when I can't get in due to earthquake or snow, but there have been so many of those paid days already this year that I don't feel right taking more if I can help it. After all, if no work is being done, no money is coming in.

For more Tuesday Poems visit the main hub site.

A Month of Photos #22

2011-08-15T22:58:00.000+12:00

More snow! Three weeks ago we had the coldest day since 1918, and now we have a "one in fifty year" snowstorm, which is actually heavier than the previous one, and predicted to last several days. It has swept the whole country, with snow in Wellington for the first time since the 1970's, and snow in Auckland where it is pretty much unprecedented. (Though I don't think it actually stayed on the ground there).

I was all geared up for a snow day with no work, when my boss rang to say that his son-in-law had turned up in his four wheel drive, and could pick me up to take me to work. Given the number of paid days off I have already had this year, what with earthquakes and the previous snowstorm, I could hardly refuse.

I photographed the pigeons from the window at work, they were on the roof of a nearby house.

A Month of Photos #21

2011-08-13T23:18:00.000+12:00

Spotted in a garden near the Christchurch South library this afternoon. A bit of cheer for earthquake-stressed residents.

A Month of Photos #20

2011-08-12T18:51:00.000+12:00

I guess I had better stop waiting, then...

A billboard not too far from my home that seems to have been demanding my attention lately.

A Month of Photos #19

2011-08-11T20:43:00.000+12:00

Somewhere around this time last year I was celebrating a birthday. And, following a meme on another blog, I started a list of "x things to do before I turn x". (I am not being coy about my age - it's just that for purposes of avoiding identity theft, not revealing my exact personal details in such a public forum seems a good idea).

So - I've been looking over the list and pondering how differently my year turned out. For a start, there is nothing on the list that says "experience three major earthquakes". Or, "learn more geology than you ever expected". (Not to mention various snippets about the methods of building construction and their earthquake resistance).

There are things on the list that I just can't do at the moment. I can't walk the Crater Rim walkway, because large sections of it are closed due to rockfall hazard, and likely to remain so for some time. There is a poetry open mic series that I had intended to go to at least once, that is just not happening at the moment because the venue is unavailable.

It's not all bad though. I did order Moo postcards. I did send out six submissions of poetry (which represents about half of all the New Zealand journals accepting submissions that I am aware of). I did ride a camel (I admit, that only made it onto the list after I knew it was pretty certain to happen!)

And most importantly - I left one paid job, and one unpaid job, so now I am down to one paid job which takes four days a week, giving me a lot more free time. Leaving those two jobs was a bigger task than I expected. Sometimes it's a lot easier to keep doing something than to organise it sufficiently for someone else to take over. Now, I am hoping the coming year will be the year I actually do something with the extra time. So, over the next few days I will transfer the unachieved goals to a new list - at least, the ones that are still possible, and add a few more.

Tuesday Poem

2011-08-09T22:09:00.000+12:00

Instead of posting a poem today, I have a link to the latest issue of the Science Fiction Poetry Association's online journal Eye to the Telescope which includes one of my poems "Radio Wave Propagation in the Roman Warm Period." (You will need to scroll down).

Another Tuesday poet Tim Jones was the editor for this issue, and a few more Tuesday poets are also featured.

And for more Tuesday poems, visit the main hub site.

A Month of Photos #18

2011-08-09T21:57:00.000+12:00

The light reflecting off this window caught my eye on my way home this evening.

A Month of Photos #17

2011-08-08T23:06:00.000+12:00

Our local supermarket and shopping centre - late afternoon. I'm not sure why the trolleys were left there when it was demolished - possibly they are damaged.
Rebuilding was to start in July but nothing has happened yet. Some rebuilding has been delayed because of the difficulty in getting construction insurance while there are still ongoing aftershocks.

A Month of Photos #16

2011-08-07T21:46:00.000+12:00

I went walking by the river late afternoon and found this cherry just starting to blossom. The orange in the background is the bare branches of a willow tree caught in the late afternoon light.

A Month of Photos #15

2011-08-06T21:33:00.000+12:00

Still on the red theme - a crocheted red heart on one of the fences which surrounds the Christchurch central business district.

A Month of Photos #14

2011-08-05T23:00:00.000+12:00

I've been trying to find other things to photograph than earthquake damage. All the same, I do feel a need to document some of it before the buildings are pulled down for good (600 in the central city alone earmarked for demolition). Because so much is closed, my routes for doing errands such as going to the bank or Post Office have changed - and every so often I pass a building that I've never seen before, such as this church a couple of kilometres away from my home. I thought I'd post it today because it is Red week at Carmi's blog, and this building is both red brick and red stickered. (Red, yellow and green placards on buildings indicate their level of safety).

I was intrigued to see that there was still a pile of snow at the base of the building - I guess, having a steeply pitched roof, the snow that slid off last week made quite a deep pile that has taken a long time to melt.

A Month of Photos #12 & 13

2011-08-04T20:08:00.000+12:00

I had a busy day yesterday,, so I am posting both yesterday's and today's photos together.

In a small reserve near my work, bronze eels wriggle towards the river.

Detail of foliage outside the Christchurch South library.

A Month of Photos #11

2011-08-02T21:56:00.000+12:00

The river as I drove past on my way to work this morning. It was frosty, and the mist was rising off the water.

Tuesday Poem: Sonnet

2011-08-01T22:12:00.000+12:00

Sonnet

for Deborah

These grey days, I hunger for colour. I scavenge
in produce aisles, take home bags overflowing
with orange-skinned mandarins, broccoli, dark
as pines, purple grapes, tri-coloured capsicums.

I sip herbal tea and read your messages.
Mongolia’s as hot as Korea, you say, but drier,
Everywhere is dusty. The vegetable soup is greasy
with mutton fat, and not much fibre in it.

You will pass through Osaka on your way home,
visit temples with gardens of pebbles
and carefully-raked sand. By the time you return
the maples in our garden will be swelling with new buds.

The Japanese have a special name for it.
Shinryoku – the tender new green of spring.

© Catherine Fitchett

***

At the time I wrote this poem my daughter had been teaching English in Korea, and was travelling through Mongolia, Thailand and Japan before returning home. It must have been about the same time of year as it is now. I was reminded of the poem when I was in the greengrocer's at the weekend, and decided to post it for my Tuesday Poem this week.

In a sort of double-dipping, the photo is included as today's image for my month of photos.

For more Tuesday Poems, visit the main hub site.

A Month of Photos #9

2011-07-31T19:33:00.000+12:00

I spent some time in the garden this afternoon. The bird is a waxeye. There are both blackbirds and waxeyes feeding on the crabapple tree - the waxeyes wait until the blackbird has pierced the tough skin and then it can feed on the inside.

A Month of Photos #8

2011-07-30T22:35:00.000+12:00

Someone has been putting giant bandaids on damaged buildings around the city..

A Month of Photos #7

2011-07-29T21:32:00.000+12:00

Once a week I go to clear a Post Office Box which is theoretically located in the Central City. But since that is still cordoned off, the box has been relocated to a temporary site, which also serves as the base for the postal rounds for a large part of the east of the city.

There are often a few bicycles lined up there, but this morning there were a large number. You can see that there is still some snow on the ground - which may be why these bikes weren't out with the posties, as they usually ride on the pavement to reach the letter boxes, and many of the pavements are still very icy.

I have a weakness for anything that makes a repetitive sort of pattern..

A Month of Photos #6

2011-07-28T22:36:00.000+12:00

There's still quite a bit of snow about. I just had time to stop on the way home and snap this shot looking over a nearby park, before it got dark.

A Month of Photos #5

2011-07-27T18:16:00.000+12:00

Yesterday morning was spent shovelling snow from our driveway so that I could get my car out to go to work. It wasn't helped by the fact that the road had been cleared by a digger which left big banks of snow blocking the foot of the driveway!

My muscles are still aching. But on the underside of one of the slabs of snow, I found twigs arranged to form this smiley face.

Tuesday Poem: Rapanui, by Barbara Strang

2011-07-26T18:45:00.000+12:00

Rapanui

This year for the first time
we can walk right
up to the rock, she said.

I love this texture
the red knobbled base,
the curving basalt upstands,

see that bush
clinging on a high ledge -
amazing how plants survive.

If we could like mice
enter those crannies in the base
we'd be safe.

And do you know the true name
for this rock, she said?

Not answering
he turned away.

-Barbara Strang

*************

I have been enjoying Christchurch poet Barbara Strang's new collection, The Corrosion Zone, which is published by Headworkx.

'Rapanui' is the Māori name for Shag Rock, meaning the great stern-post. The rock was a sentinel on the way to Sumner beach, but unfortunately it fell down in the earthquake of 22nd February, 2011. Visiting Sumner a week or two ago and seeing the rock in its present state put me in mind particularly of this poem. The photo at the head of the column shows the rock as it is now.

And here is a stunningly beautiful photo of the rock as it was.

Also among this week's Tuesday poems is another of Barbara's poems, Fatigues, at Tim Jones's blog. For more poems, visit the main Tuesday Poem hub site. (Check out the links in the side bar).

A Month of Photos #3

2011-07-25T21:40:00.002+12:00

Snow Day!

A Month of Photos #2

2011-07-24T21:55:00.000+12:00

I had to walk round to the corner store to get milk this morning. I took some photos of the local library and shops - that is, of the demolition progress - but this caught my eye. The standard method around here of identifying which house is hosting a child's birthday party.

We can use a few smiles!

A Month of Photos: #1 Front Row Seat

2011-07-23T22:56:00.000+12:00

One of the blogs I visit quite frequently is Susannah Conway's. For the second year, Susannah is running the "August break" in which she posts a photo a day, and encourages others to do the same, as a break from writing wordy blog posts. It's a summer thing. Except that it isn't summer here, and anyway I will be away for the last week of August with unreliable internet access. But I like the idea of posting a photo a day for a while, so I thought I would start now, which gives me just time to get a full month in before I go.

I'll try to make it a sort of daily diary, posting a photo taken that day. But since there's not much daylight left when I get home from work, I may not always keep to that.

This photo in fact was taken yesterday. I drove past this scene without a camera, and took a trip back to get the photo. The stadium in the background was upgraded at huge cost for the forthcoming Rugby World Cup. Since it was damaged in the earthquake, it has not been used, and there is speculation that in fact the ground is so badly damaged that it may never be used again.

Of course it's not the ground as such that's the problem, it is whether or not it can bear the weight of several large multi storey grandstands. I think back to the days when my Dad took me to watch the rugby, and we stood on the sideline, or ran up and down, shouting "come on blues!". I had no idea back then what the game was actually about - I'm not much more knowledgeable about it now, either.

National Poetry Day

2011-07-23T12:02:00.000+12:00

The US gets National Poetry Month, but here in New Zealand we get one day. For some reason, Poetry Day events in Christchurch always seem to be held in the day time. If I lived in Auckland, Wellington, Dunedin or a number of other places, there would be evening events to go to. But for the last few years I have always been working on a Friday and hence unable to participate.

At last I have Fridays free. Which means I was able to attend the reading held at the University Bookshop - a wonderful shop that I would frequent more if it weren't for the issue of parking, as all parking on campus is permit only. It was a treat to be in a proper bookshop, one that doesn't give prominence to cookbooks and "biographies" of sports stars. And a treat to hear readings from local poets Kerrin Sharpe, James Norcliffe and Tusiata Avia, followed by a performance by singer-songwriter Adam McGrath of The Eastern.

There were earthquake poems, of course. But not too many. Tusiata Avia read her poem describing her drive to pick up her daughter from her inner city preschool, in grid-locked traffic after February's quake. Her journey turned into a hero's epic, in which her street turned into a river (that part at least, would not be exaggerated at all). Hordes of drowned wildebeests made an appearance, and she drove for five days. It was a powerful poem, full of emotional truth if not literal truth.

James Norcliffe's earthquake poem referred to "The Death of Seneca". It's always hard to remember poems hear once, however the phrase "the earth shrugged" sticks with me. Jim's poems, he said, were rather dark, but the commentary that comes with them is always spiced with humour, and the audience had plenty of opportunities to laugh.

Kerrin Sharpe spent a year at the International Institute of Modern Letters in Wellington. A number of her poems were set in Wellington. I particularly enjoyed "Sewing the World". Her mother, apparently, was a milliner. This poem was full of references to stitches such as feather stitch - but also to the streets of Wellington - a bonus for me as I spent the first half of my life there, and each street name triggered a visual picture in my mind. Although there is nothing in the way of straight forward fact in Kerrin's poems - she has a magical way of looking at the world.

Afterwards I browsed the bookshelves and found a small selection of "Revived Editions" i.e. second hand books. Most of the city's second hand bookshops have been casualties of the earthquake. So I was delighted to find some excellent poetry books here at very reasonable prices, and brought three home with me.

Tuesday Poem: Clock-O'-Clay, by John Clare

2011-07-18T21:50:00.000+12:00

Clock-O'-Clay

In the cowslip pips I lie,
Hidden from the buzzing fly,
While green grass beneath me lies,
Pearled with dew like fishes' eyes,
Here I lie, a clock-o'-clay,
Waiting for the time o' day.

While the forest quakes surprise,
And the wild wind sobs and sighs,
My home rocks as like to fall,
On its pillar green and tall;
When the pattering rain drives by
Clock-o'-clay keeps warm and dry.

Day by day and night by night,
All the week I hide from sight;
In the cowslip pips I lie,
In the rain still warm and dry;
Day and night, and night and day,
Red, black-spotted clock-o'-clay.

My home shakes in wind and showers,
Pale green pillar topped with flowers,
Bending at the wild wind's breath,
Till I touch the grass beneath;
Here I live, lone clock-o'-clay,
Watching for the time of day.

John Clare (1793-1864)

**********

A year or so back I read Adam Foulds' novel The Quickening Maze - or is it a novel? It reads as one, but focuses on real people - the poets John Clare and Alfred, Lord Tennyson, and the doctor who treated both John Clare and Tennyson's brother Septimus. How much is truth and how much fiction I am not sure, but it is a compelling book.

John Clare was known as "the peasant poet". He was feted for a time, but never really fit in with the literati of the day, or with the rural society into which he was born. He spent the last part of his life in an asylum, gradually losing his grasp on reality.

Somehow his poems are ones I missed out on when studying 19th century English poets at high school. Reading the novel led me to seek them out. This one rather appealed to me, even before a google search led me to the meaning of "clock o'clay" which is, apparently, 19th century Northamptonshire dialect for a ladybird.

City Farmyard

2011-07-16T17:31:00.000+12:00

Some would-be farmers in the city keep chickens. And others...

I spotted the cow when I was out and about yesterday. Actually, it's fiberglass. But it made me smile.

Also making me smile are a couple of poetry acceptances recently. I'm a bit reticent to give the details until I see the poems in print. Earlier in the year, I had an acceptance that somehow didn't eventuate. The (online) journal appeared, my poem wasn't in it. Since it was the last issue before going into recess for a while, at least I feel that I can safely send the poem elsewhere.

I've been sending the poems out, but I haven't been writing anything new for a while. I figure that rather than waste time moping around not writing poems (which can take a lot of energy, it seems), it's better to do what takes my fancy. Walks on the beach to take photos. Home baking. Today I made it to a fabric/craft/homeware store where I bought thread and curtain tape, the first step to making some new curtains. I'm tired of the ones that threaten to disintegrate every time I grab hold to open or close them. And curtain making is one thing that doesn't need to go on hold while insurance claims are settled.

Christchurch Earthquake Photos

2011-07-11T19:34:00.000+12:00

A collapsed building in High Street.

The Hotel Grand Chancellor or "Leaning Tower of Christchurch". Demolition will take about a year, one level at a time.

Workmen taking down the damaged dome from the Cathedral of the Blessed Sacrament.

A view of High St through a statue outside the Christchurch Polytechnic. This statue was erected as part of the 6th Scape Biennial of Art in Public Spaces, which never happened due to the first quake on September 4th 2010.

Signs on the fence behind damaged buildings in High St.

While the rest of the country suffered wild weather and tornadoes, Christchurch basked in winter sunshine over the weekend. I took a break from running errands to explore a little further into the city, just to see how far I could get before coming up against the inevitable cordons.

We used to play a board game with the children called "The Amazing Labyrinth". It was a simple sort of roll the dice and navigate a pathway game, except for one feature - at each turn, the player took a loose piece of the board, and used it to shove a row of similarly loose pieces, so that the pathway changed, blocking routes that were previously open. Christchurch feels a bit like that at the moment. You never know when a tower will suddenly be declared potentially unsafe, and a street is closed off while it is inspected. Or there is flooding of low-lying riverside streets due to an exceptionally high tide. Or perhaps a street opens up once demolitions of dangerous buildings have been completed.

There are about 1000 buildings on the yet-to-be-demolished list.

Yesterday my daughter admired my shoes and asked where I bought them. I couldn't remember the exact shop, but I knew what area, and that the shop undoubtedly is not there any more.

We had visits from our insurance company and the EQC (government earthquake insurance agency) last week. No dollar figure yet, but we do have a long list of what will be fixed. The insurance company will take care of the driveway and all the walls and fences. EQC will jack up and level the front of the house, re-hang the doors that don't work, fill in all the cracks in the interior walls and ceilings, replaster the ceilings, repaper the walls, fill in the cracks in the exterior walls and repaint. And rebuild the chimney. Although there is some scheme whereby we can have a clean heat appliance instead, given that it's not actually legal to use an open fire any more. Some time within the next month we will find out their estimate for the cost. If it's less than $100,000, we go on the long list for their preferred contractor to manage the repairs. If it's more, they give us a cheque and our insurance company covers the balance.

I'm not in a hurry - if we get it fixed and there's another big aftershock, we could be back to square one. So waiting a year or so seems like a very good idea just now.

Tuesday Poem: Australian Poetry Library

2011-07-05T22:56:00.000+12:00

I'm feeling a little lazy today - so instead of posting a poem, I have a link to offer:
The Australian Poetry Library has over 42,000 poems by more than 170 poets for you to choose from, all free to view online.

Weekend Pleasures

2011-07-04T22:47:00.000+12:00

1. Three days of beautiful sunny weather. It has been unusually warm for the middle of winter.

2. Saturday was only the second day since February 22nd that there were no aftershocks felt in Christchurch.

3. Shoes! I went to a shoe outlet sale and stocked up on sensible leather shoes at bargain prices - then added to my purchases a ridiculously frivolous pair of summer sandals in "citrus" - a sort of lemony lime colour. I think it is the first ever pair of shoes that I have bought in a non-neutral colour, but they were so cheap that I thought the smiles they give me justified the purchase.

4. I had a very long soak in a warm bath. I expected to feel a little guilty - we are supposed to be limiting water use still, and not creating too much grey water, because of drainage issues. But in fact it brought me so much pleasure that I didn't feel guilty at all. I won't be taking another one for a while, though.

5. I went to a craft fair on Saturday and enjoyed browsing among the stalls. Lovely to look at, but not so much to buy - many of the stalls seemed to be aimed at the doting grandmother market, and I don't have any rug rats to buy for. I did bring home some brochures particularly for fabric stores that sell online.

Tuesday Poem: Sea Call, by Hone Tuwhare

2011-06-27T22:14:00.000+12:00

Sea Call

Let the radio pip and shudder
at each dawn’s news

Let the weatherman hint
a gaunt meaning to the chill
and ache of bone:
but when the new moon’s bowl
is storing rain, the pull of time
and sea will cry to me
again.

And I shall stuff my longing
in an empty pack
and hasten to the secret shore
where the land’s curve lies
clad in vermilion – and the green
wind tugging gravely.

There let the waves lave
pleasuring the body’s senses,
and the sun’s feet
shall twinkle and flex
to the sea-egg’s needling
and the paua’s stout kiss
shall drain a rock’s heart
to the sandbar’s booming.

- Hone Tuwhare
reproduced by permission of the estate of Hone Tuwhare

I was about eleven or twelve when I fell in love with John Masefield's poem, Sea Fever. It spoke to a solitary young girl who spent a great deal of time at the beach, swimming, clambering over rocks and dabbling in rock pools - elements of the poem such as "the call of the running tide"... "the flung spray and the blown spume, and the seagulls crying" were very familiar to me.

Sea Fever though, speaks of a mariner, leading a "vagrant gypsy life" far from shore.

Hone Tuwhare's poem Sea Call seems to me to express something of the same longing in a more shore-bound way, closer to my childhood experience. There are some beautiful images in here - the land's curve clad in vermilion (surely a reference to the red blossom of coastal pohutukawa trees), the sun's feet which twinkle and flex, the paua's stout kiss. I was unfamiliar with this poem until I heard it read at the launch of the Phantom Billstickers Poetry Poster series. I was delighted to be able to bring home a small size version of the poster on which it appears (coming soon to a lamp post near you!) It was to be read by Hone's son Rob, but Rob's flight from Auckland was unfortunately cancelled due to volcanic ash, so another reader took his place.

My thanks to Rob for permission to reproduce the poem here.

For more Tuesday poems go to the main hub site, where there is a poem posted each week. Further poems can be found on the blogs of the participants listed in the sidebar there. Biographical details and more of Hone Tuwhare's poems can be found at the Hone Tuwhare Charitable Trust website linked to his name above.

Hurry Up and Wait

2011-06-23T23:11:00.000+12:00

Today was the day when the government made a major announcement on the future of homes in Christchurch. The earthquake didn't just damage homes - it damaged the land beneath. There are large areas now where the land is so damaged that it can't be rebuilt on. It has become prone to flooding, and all the underground services are wrecked - "munted" is the slang term that has become very familiar lately - sewage, water and so on. To repair the land would require all the homes in the area - damaged or not - to be demolished, so the ground can be compacted, in some cases raised up to three metres, and all the underground services completely replaced. Also, in some areas it had been proposed to sink giant stone walls into the ground along the river banks to prevent lateral spreading. This is where the land moves sideways and develops huge cracks, usually towards the river as there is nothing to stop the sideways movement there. Only when the land repair is complete could the houses be rebuilt. This would mean at least three years, probably five or more, before the residents could return to their homes.

So, the city has been divided into four areas. Red zone residents - about 5000 homes - are being offered an immediate compensation package by the government so they can sell up and move on. The orange zone of another 10,000 homes requires further assessment, in particular because the June 13th aftershocks changed the situation yet again. Some of this zone will become red and some will become green. The green zone is OK to rebuild on. The white zone - mainly the hill suburbs - has not yet been assessed. The hazards in the white area are more related to rockfalls than flooding.

Our house, as expected, is in the green zone. And the landcheck website told us, earlier today, that this meant repair and rebuilding could now proceed. Yeah right, I thought, but we haven't even seen an insurance assessor yet, let alone had a payout. (300,000 insurance claims take a while to work through). Strangely, when I went to check the exact wording, I found it had been changed! It no longer says that repair and rebuilding can proceed immediately, just that we should talk with our insurer and EQC (the government earthquake insurance) about repairs. It also advises that some work should be delayed until ongoing aftershocks settle down.

I can't honestly say that if we were offered settlement today, we'd be in a hurry to begin work tomorrow. Plastering cracked walls and ceilings for instance, seems a little crazy when there is a 30% chance of another aftershock bigger than 6.0

So - for those in the red zone, a settlement offer will arrive within eight weeks, orange will have to wait several more months to be reclassified red or green, white will have to wait an indefinite time to get any sort of classification, and everyone but red will have to wait while the backlog of claims is processed and then until the ground stops shaking so that there is actually some point in fixing things up.

And while our house is zoned green, I was shocked to discover just how much of our area is zoned orange, including neighbours just three houses down the street towards the river, all the houses along the river just around the corner, and the house we lived in before we moved to our current house.

We had been planning to add on to that house to accommodate our growing family, and then spotted this one for sale, and decided it was so much easier just to move to a larger house rather than go through the problems of adding on. It was a lucky find, being large enough for a family of four children (later to be five), and only two blocks away.

I don't know whether to feel fortunate that we moved, or sad for our friends and neighbours still in limbo waiting for a final answer.

Tuesday Poem

2011-06-21T19:40:00.000+12:00

North American Periodic Cicada

It will happen like this:
after the struggle, he will leave in haste,
return with a spade and dig
a shallow grave in the quiet woods.
The victim, who lived alone,
will not be missed until the neighbour
sees the overflowing mailbox,
knocks on the door a week later.
The assailant is long gone.

Or, it will happen like this:
he will dig a shallow grave.
Too shallow. A boy will walk with his dog
through these woods. The dog will sniff
the freshly dug earth, paw at it,
uncover what has been done.
The assailant, blood on his shirt,
will be stopped at a police roadblock
crossing into the next state.

No, this is what will happen.
There is a struggle in the woods.
Later that night a phenomenon that comes round
once every seventeen years -
a horde of insects crawl from the ground,
make their way around the corpse, through
the soft earth, up the trunks of trees. They split
their shells, emerge soft bodied.
Billions of creatures harden on branches
until by daytime they take to the air.
Before the boy comes by with his curious dog,
empty shells will rain honey-coloured,
covering the ground for miles.
The woods crunch underfoot. The boy
will not venture far in, the dog
will not spot the soft earth.
There will be no manhunt until
the assailant is several states away,
living a new life. And if he keeps his secret
the cicadas, deep in the earth for another seventeen years,
will not reveal it for him.

************

"North American Periodic Cicada" is one of the poems in Flap: the Chook Book 2, my small poetry group's recent collection which is reviewed on the just-updated website for Takahe magazine.

It came about like this: I had been reading the foreword to Best American Poems (the 2006 edition, if I recall correctly) for which Billy Collins was one of the editors. He was discussing elements in poems that were deal breakers for him, and one of them was the word "cicada". Apparently, if he comes across it in a poem, he finds himself unable to read on.

No explanation was given. I found myself wondering what it was that he objected to about cicadas. It seemed to me that perhaps many poets use cicadas as a sort of sentimental evocation of the sounds of summer. So I was immediately attracted to the idea of writing a non-sentimental cicada poem. And that night I watched a nature documentary on TV, which included the phenomenon of the North American Periodic Cicada, an insect which spends seventeen years underground before metamorphosing into its adult form. Furthermore, all the members of the species emerge en masse in one night. It is apparently quite spectacular when it happens. I started imagining what the dense layer of cast off exoskeletons might cover up.

The poem has been slightly edited from its original version, which first appeared at Blackmail Press online, in the Secrets issue.

For more Tuesday Poems, visit the main hub site, and the contributors listed in the sidebar at the Tuesday Poem site.

And the Number for Today Is...

2011-06-17T21:54:00.000+12:00

4.4
That was the size of the aftershock which served as the city's alarm clock at 6.30 this morning. I did get back to sleep after that one. I got up a couple of hours later, happy that it was Friday and I had a free day to run around and work through my long list of errands, and wonder again how I ever found time to work five days a week.

Fridays will be even better once I don't have a long list of errands to do.

I came home and was relaxing when we had another couple of 4.4s - actually the second I think was 4.5. It bounced the coffee out of my coffee cup and into my lap. Just as well that it was a cold day as I had enough layers on to insulate me from the effects.

My brother and his wife arrived to do their laundry and have showers as there is still no water on in their suburb. They live very near the epicentre of Monday's two big shakes, and their area took a hammering. Fortunately their own house is still liveable.

The day ended better than it started, as I headed off to a poetry reading - the Global launch of the Phantom Billstickers' sixth series of poetry posters. It was held in a venue I've never been to before - the Addington Coffee Co-op. Addington is a former working class suburb just on the western fringe of the city. It's been seeing a lot of action recently as businesses relocate to new office parks there, along with retail and hospitality businesses displaced from the central city. There were a few traffic problems on the way - it was rush hour - but it was worth it. The selection of poets reading was generous - large numbers brought in from out of town, as well as local poets, to read one poem each - and the free catering was equally generous. I've been going to the Canterbury Poets Collective annual series of readings for quite a few years, and thought I knew all the local poets, but many tonight were unfamiliar to me. It was a pleasure to be going to any event at a time when so much has been cancelled, and rescheduled, and cancelled again. (Though a few of the invited poets didn't make it due to flights being disrupted by ash from the Chilean volcano - others read their poems for them).

Almost as exciting as going to a poetry event was seeing a table full of glasses next to a tap with a sign that read "We have a UV water purification system - our water is safe to drink".

The Phantom Billstickers main business is putting up posters on hoardings for pay - concert posters, and so on - but the poetry posters are, as far as I can tell, something that they do just for the love of poetry. The poems we heard tonight will soon be gracing lampposts, walls and hoardings all over - not just in New Zealand, but in the United States too - Boston, New Jersey and Pennsylvania were some of the places mentioned. They were also giving away free smaller sized versions of the posters, and I brought several home with me.

Earthquake Play List

2011-06-16T19:57:00.003+12:00

My earthquake playlist has been growing slowly since shortly after the September quake when one of our local radio stations happened to be playing Carole King just as an aftershock hit. I'm sure this list would be longer if I had a better knowledge of popular music. Some of these songs may not be familiar to overseas (or younger) readers, but I'm sure a quick google search will find most of them on Youtube.

1. I Feel the Earth Move - Carole King

2. Shake, Rattle and Roll - various artists including Bill Haley, Buddy Holly and Elvis

3. Good Vibrations - the Beach Boys

4. Tumblin'Down - Maria Dallas

5. Rock Around the Clock - Bill Haley again

6. The Gumboot Song - John Clarke aka Fred Dagg. This is one that our local radio played for all those digging silt off their properties, yet again, after the double quakes on Monday.

Any more suggestions welcome.

Edit: Some great suggestions in the comments, also, I intended to include "Here We Go Again" on the list, but I can't quite find the one I was thinking of - there are it seems many variants on this title - "Here We Go Again", "Here I Go Again", "There You Go Again" and so on, but none of them is quite the song that is playing in my head.

Tuesday Poem: Bubbles, by Siobhan Harvey

2011-06-14T19:06:00.000+12:00

Bubbles

Buoyant and with breath enough
to blow out two candles, you
purse lips, expel air, create a rainbow-
coloured world for the first time. Like you,
it dances, fat bee, around spring garden
bright with early stargazers. Afloat,
it anchors you before it, a deity, so in its skin
you discover yourself turned topsy-turvy,
and the world at your back upended also.

Then it vanishes, just as you, my little atom,
will vanish in time. Suddenly,
when you’re big enough, you’ll drift away
to new worlds, spinning stories home
about pearl-diving off Isla de Coche;
night-watching the Golden Gate’s glassy lights;
hot air ballooning over an oracular el-Colossat;
lazy Sundays playing boules in les Tuileries
and sightseeing L’Orangerie and Sacre Coeur.

My heart releases any pain
it feels at the thought
of ever losing you, for I see
now that we’re floating, you and I,
towards that future even as you lift
the wand again, birth and set free
more bubbles. All I need remember is:
the breath I’ve given you carries you onward,
and that breath always belongs to me.

Siobhan Harvey is an enormously busy person - among other things she is the poetry editor for Takahe magazine, the national coordinator for New Zealand Post Poetry Day, teaches creative writing at Auckland University, and is the mother of a young son. Among all this, she has found time to publish her own poetry. Lost Relatives was published this year by Steele Roberts. It explores issues of immigration, identity and family. Siobhan had planned to hold a book launch for Lost Relatives in Christchurch on March 8th. Unfortunately the February 22nd earthquake caused a cancellation of the book launch, but I was able to order a copy direct from the publisher's website. (No book shops were open in Christchurch at the time, or at least, none that stocked poetry - but the service direct from the publishers was excellent and the book arrived within a day or two).

Siobhan says about the poem:

'Bubbles' was inspired by the smallest of acts. My son, who was 18 months old, was blowing bubbles. I loved watching him do this - his sense of accomplishment; the aesthetic beauty of bubbles floating in the sun; the simple act of creating something such as bubbles which were often dazzlingly beautiful. Yet, it struck me, that each time my son blew bubbles, this simple act was framed and, in turn, acted as a frame for far deeper, universal issues which he and I, as son and mother, would have to negotiate in time - such as his growth through childhood and the experiences of motherhood this would bring to me. There was my young son with and close to me. There was I, parentally watching over him achieve a small milestone in the blowing of a bubble. Yet, like the bubble he birthed and let float out into the world, all too soon my son would drift away from me, travel overseas and explore everything the world has to show him. In this sense, the bubbles my son blew were like mirrors which unfolded his - and my - future. Once I'd perceived and considered these issues, the poem came to me. Eventually, it was selected as runner-up in the Inaugural Bernard Gadd Memorial Poetry Prize. Later, the artist Alby Yap selected it for a piece of work he did which was entered into and short-listed for the 2010 Bernard Gadd Art Award. To me, the poem plays a crucial role in the third section 'My Son and I' of my new collection, Lost Relatives.

Here We Go Again

2011-06-13T18:38:00.000+12:00

More aftershocks, a 5.5 just on lunchtime which had me jumping under my desk - then, after lunch when I was beginning to calm down and focus on work again, a 6.0 which shut off the power to over 50,000 homes (including where I work) and stopped work for the day.

So, not quite back to square one, but there is plenty of new damage:

Our local volunteer library after September 4th - cracks in the block work, causing safety fencing to be erected around it.

After February 4th, looking distinctly the worse for wear

After this afternoon's effort - now we can see right through the building to the house on the other side.

This was taken in the main road a couple of blocks from our house. Not as bad as February 22nd, when I had to take off my socks and shoes, roll my trousers up and wade through here to get home. Nevertheless, there is enough liquefaction, along with damage to water and sewer mains, to set back the recovery effort significantly.

We were very glad to get our power back on again just as it was getting dark, although we had already got out our emergency supplies - candles in jars half filled with sand to keep them stable, a gas heater, a hand cranked torch, a transistor radio, and our emergency water. The water pressure is very low and the sewage system is damaged again (not that it had been completely repaired yet). There are still 47,000 households without power and they are not likely to get it back on tonight.

Tuesday Poem: Waterfall, by Marisa Cappetta

2011-06-07T19:24:00.000+12:00

waterfall

It starts as
the father and his daughters,

his love for them
enough to fill a balloon
and sail over
the Colosseum over the Tiber
and onto London.
His love a warm air rising,
playful as a thermal.

His girls tumble
from the basket
he scans the land below

but his daughter's beds
are empty and smell
of earth, leaves
and the pummel of
water on wet stone.

He finds one of their
shoes behind the waterfall.

At night
his eyes are silos
filled with a warm air,
rising.

This week's offering for Tuesday Poem is another of Marisa Cappetta's lovely poems filled with lush imagery. Marisa is a Christchurch visual artist and poet, currently studying at the Hagley Writers' Institute. The poem was published in the latest issue of Takahe magazine, where Marisa says
When writing I gather ideas, text, articles and objects in the literary equivalent of a visual diary. I produce 'thumbnails' of writing in frames, mind maps, balloon diagrams and flow charts. In this format I test phrases and ideas in various configurations; the process is often playful, easily allowing me to experiment.

Changes

2011-06-04T22:26:00.000+12:00

Back in the middle of last year I started making a list of things to do before my next birthday. Unfortunately it didn't include experiencing two major earthquakes! With just two to three months left to go, I find that much of the list remains undone.

What I did include on the list was two things to stop doing. Strangely, stopping something seems almost as difficult as doing something. But I am nearly there. One was to leave one of my two jobs, and I was hoping for extra hours at my other job to partially bridge the gap in earnings. This has worked out perfectly - an extra day at the second job was offered and accepted without my even asking for it. And yesterday, for the first time in a long time, I found myself with a free Friday. Which I spent running round catching up on all sorts of errands, and wondering how I ever found the time to work five days a week.

Among the tasks - most of the copies of Takahe issue 72 are now in the mail (the other task I am planning to give up. The AGM is in a few weeks time, then I will be done). Getting a long overdue haircut. Picking up a book that I had put on hold from the library.

I started walking to the hairdresser, got as far as the footbridge (see photo) and realised that I couldn't go that way any more. I wasn't able to capture it in a photo, but the bridge has completely broken away from the supporting pillar underneath. Only gravity is keeping it in place. It was too late to take the longer route by the road bridge so I went back home and got the car.

On the counter at the hairdresser, a petition to save our local Post Shop. Apparently NZ Post intend not to renew the franchise when the shopping centre is rebuilt. Given the distances I had to drive to get all the magazines in the post, I was very quick to sign. I really miss being able to do quick errands on the way home at 5.15 pm.

At the library, I thought I would check on the poetry books shortlisted for the NZ Book Awards. And there they were in the catalogue, listed as "available - first floor Central Library". So I went to the counter. "Books that are listed as available at the Central Library - can you actually retrieve those?" "Well, no", was the answer, "we're not allowed in at the moment". So, I can place a hold but I might have to wait six months, or who knows how long, before the Central Library is accessible again.

I've asked my daughter, who works at the University Library, if she can get them for me. She is going to try, but much of the University Library is also inaccessible, apparently. Sigh. I could buy them, but I've already spent quite a bit on books in the last couple of weeks.

Instead, I will console myself with The Best of the Best New Zealand Poems, which is one of the books I did buy. And with the fact that it is a long weekend here (happy birthday to the Queen, even if it is not her real birthday!), so I still have two more days of weekend to look forward to.

Blue Box

2011-05-27T22:23:00.000+12:00

Carmi is exploring blue at his blog this week. I had a bunch of photos picked out, but when I passed this portable toilet on my way to an appointment today, I knew I had to get a photo, so I stopped on the way home.

Doctor Who was nowhere to be seen - off saving the world, no doubt.

There are still 10,000 homes in areas of Christchurch where the sewage is not working properly. So we will expect to have these in the streets for a while yet. At least when you're out, you're never likely to be caught short!

Tuesday Poem: The Land of Counterpane, by Robert Louis Stevenson

2011-05-24T19:24:00.000+12:00

The Land of Counterpane

When I was sick and lay a-bed,
I had two pillows at my head,
And all my toys beside me lay,
To keep me happy all the day.

And sometimes for an hour or so
I watched my leaden soldiers go,
With different uniforms and drills,
Among the bed-clothes, through the hills;

And sometimes sent my ships in fleets
All up and down among the sheets;
Or brought my trees and houses out,
And planted cities all about.

I was the giant great and still
That sits upon the pillow-hill,
And sees before him, dale and plain,
The pleasant land of counterpane.

*****

I've had a nasty cold for the last few days, and spent some time curled up in bed and on a chair under blankets with a pile of books. So, I'm posting this poem in a fit of nostalgia.

Robert Louis Stevenson's A Child's Garden of Verses was the second poetry book I ever owned. (The first was The Golden Treasury of Poetry edited by Louis Untermeyer). I can still view it in my mind, though where it went to I'm not quite sure. I had many favourites in the book and may post more on another occasion.

Stevenson came from a well known Scottish family of lighthouse engineers, but though he studied engineering for a short time, his heart wasn't in it, and he turned to literature. He was an only child, and frequently ill with a weak chest. This poem no doubt recalls his own childhood growing up in Edinburgh.

For more Tuesday Poems visit the main hub site here.

Tuesday Poem: Inversnaid, by Gerard Manley Hopkins

2011-05-16T18:46:00.000+12:00

Inversnaid

This darksome burn, horseback brown,
His rollrock highroad roaring down,
In coop and in comb the fleece of his foam
Flutes and low to the lake falls home.

A windpuff-bonnet of fawn-froth
Turns and twindles over the broth
Of a pool so pitchblack, fell-frowning,
It rounds and rounds Despair to drowning.

Degged with dew, dappled with dew
Are the groins of the braes that the brook treads through,
Wiry heathpacks, flitches of fern,
And the beadbonny ash that sits over the burn.

What would the world be, once bereft
Of wet and of wildness? Let them be left,
O let them be left, wildness and wet;
Long live the weeds and the wilderness yet.

*********

Gerard Manley Hopkins (1844-1889) was an English poet and Roman Catholic priest. His poetry was heavily influenced by archaic language and Old English rhythms.

I have always loved this poem, Inversnaid. It refers to a watercourse that tumbles into Loch Lomond on its eastern shores. We stayed in Scotland not so very far away, and later passed up the west side of Loch Lomond, but didn't actually get to Inversnaid. Still, every time I heard the small stream tumble down the hillside at the hotel where we were staying, on the nearby Loch Ard, I thought of this poem.

Visit the main hub site for more Tuesday Poems, and check out the sites of the other Tuesday Poem bloggers (close on thirty) linked via the side bar there.

Earthquake Update

2011-05-14T11:57:00.000+12:00

Yesterday morning as I was about to leave for work, a courier arrived with a package. He commented that he was supposed to deliver it the previous day but contractors had refused him entry to the street, saying it was "residents only". That surprised me, since there was no evidence that contractors had been in our street - the wonderful blue water pipes are still above ground, and the street still has all its cracks, humps and dips. We live in a little cul de sac off a road that runs along the river. Later, talking to my husband, we figured that he had tried to enter the river road at the end where there is work going on to repair the broken sewer pipe under the river. All he actually had to do was drive round and come in at the other end. No problem, you would think, but apparently it was too hard.

Speaking of the blue pipes - a neighbour told me that they would be dug underground before winter comes, to avoid problems if they froze. Now I am watching anxiously, because winter is getting close - we have already had a few frosts. And there is no sign of action. I'll be making sure our emergency water supplies in the cupboard stay well-stocked.

Some heartening news: a permanent head has been appointed to CERA (the Canterbury Earthquake Recovery authority). He is Roger Sutton, head of Orion, the electricity lines company who did an amazing job of restoring power to the city after the quake - and communicating effectively what was being done. His appointment seems to have met with universal approval, as residents hope that what needs to be done will be done effectively, quickly and with a high degree of transparency. Let's hope disillusion doesn't set in as no doubt not all his decisions will meet universal approval. In particular the tension between those who say "demolish it all and open up the city" and those who want particular buildings saved at all costs will be hard to neogtiate.

I'm not so pleased with New Zealand Post who have announced that the Post Shop in Sydenham - my nearest until our local shopping centre can be rebuilt in about a year's time - will not reopen. It is undamaged, but the decision has more to do with supposed changed traffic patterns, and no doubt the fact that NZ Post is losing money and is also axing Post Shops elsewhere in the country. Still - if a dairy owner can open up in a shipping container and do good business, surely the Post Shop can reopen and also do good business in an area that is rather short of options.

I'm still travelling to the extreme north of the city to collect mail for Takahe magazine from the mail sorting centre by the airport. This is because our Post Office box is in the central city inside the cordon. We haven't been offered any good options at this stage if we want to keep the same box number. It's classed as a business account even though we make no profit - so a two months free redirection is the best they can offer, after that we would have to pay. So far, I've combined it with other trips but my business in that part of the city will be coming to an end soon.

Yesterday it shrunk from a full day's work to four hours. Which left me time after collecting the mail to check out my favourite bookshop, Scorpio Books, now relocated. The good news is that their new premises are considerably more spacious than the old shop inside the cordon - and that they have been allowed in for long enough to retrieve their stock, though some is damaged by dirt and grit blowing in the broken windows. The bad news is that their new shop is in Riccarton Road - now the busiest, most traffic-choked part of the city. They tell me there is parking out the back. That helps, but it doesn't help with the slow journey sitting in traffic on the way there.

The photo at the head of the post was taken in Merivale, where the mall is still open, despite the facade of these shops on the street side having fallen down. I've been intending for a while to stop by and take a photo of this large papier mache mushroom which I find intriguing - finally got round to it on the way to work yesterday.

Tuesday Poem: Sitting Woman With Fish Hat

2011-05-10T22:55:00.000+12:00

Sitting Woman with Fish Hat

(after Picasso)
I'm sitting here with a turbot on my head
This is ridiculous
I hope it's finished soon
Even with the lemon on top,
This fish is starting to stink.
That fellow - Pablo something-or-other -
Calls himself an artist - Hah!
He's given me two eyes on the same side of my face
Like a flounder
Doesn't know a front view from a profile
If he's an artist, I'll eat my hat

Another one from the archives. The image that inspired this poem can be found here.

This week at the Tuesday Poem hub the guest editor, James Norcliffe introduces a poem by Christchurch poet, David Gregory. Both the poem and James's excellent commentary are well worth reading. More Tuesday poets are linked in the side bar of the Tuesday Poem hub.

Friday Excursions

2011-05-06T19:16:00.000+12:00

I'm in the process of reorganising several commitments in my life. Last Friday was my last day at one of my two jobs - my last permanent day, that is. Due to various circumstances, I said when I resigned that I would be available on Fridays for a few weeks to help out if necessary, which proved to be the case today. I think I will be fully done with this job by the end of May, and then I will have Fridays free. The Wednesdays that I was also working there have been taken up by my other job which will now be four days a week.

I'm really looking forward to free Fridays. Today, though, I was able to get away before three, in time for a physio appointment. The roads were already crowded with traffic. After my appointment I went in search of clothes - a plain long-sleeved red top is what I was after. I didn't want to head back into the crazy post-earthquake traffic so I checked out some areas that were on my way home, and have only recently reopened. Unfortunately the shops I wanted hadn't reopened. So I will be shopping again at the weekend.

Sydenham has whole blocks of old shops that have been completely demolished. In the midst of it all, this dairy (convenience store) was trading out of a converted shipping container (see photo above). I hope the owner does well, he deserves to.

Not so some of the other businesses which have perfectly good green-stickered buildings, and yet remain closed. The Post Office clearly has not been entered since the quake - all the mess still lies on the floor. And yet the placard says "no restrictions on use or occupancy". I fear that it is one of the victims of government cost-cutting, and may remain closed. Don't they realise how few options people have on this side of town? Not everyone has reliable transport to travel several suburbs away to do their errands. The WINZ office (government agency for income support such as unemployment and sickness benefits) was also shut, with no indication of a likely reopening, despite its green placard.

My optometrist, on the other hand, has reopened. As has Spotlight, a large fabric, craft and homewares store, which is really good news, as I no longer have to travel across town to buy a reel of thread or a few buttons.

Tuesday Poem: Z

2011-05-03T22:57:00.000+12:00

Time for something light. I seem to be quite good at starting series of poems and less good at finishing them. At one stage, after playing with lists of words I liked, I started a series based on letters of the alphabet, but didn't get very far. As I recall, I managed "Z", "O" and "X", but the one I liked best was "Z". This was first published in the Christchurch Press, and also in "The Chook Book" - now out of print, but I have a few spare copies.

Z

points both east and west
a Byzantine ziggurat
a jazz riff, Dizzy Gillespie on a trombone
it's a double puzzle
a blazing breeze
a horizon zigzagging to the zenith
an awkward couple
a figure 2 sharpened
catching z's in a double bed
all knees and elbows.

copyright Catherine Fitchett

For more Tuesday Poems visit the main hub site.

Around the Neighbourhood

2011-05-02T22:09:00.000+12:00

This is the carpark of our local shopping centre - now scheduled for demolition. This rather large slump in the ground has filled with rainwater, and the gulls were enjoying themselves when I went past. They also have a rather large sandbank nearby, so it is quite beachlike!

Businesses have had various approaches to the earthquake, some more useful than others. This I felt was one of the better responses - offering those who don't have transport, particularly the elderly, the chance to get their shopping done, while helping provide customers to a supermarket that is in an area now rather short of traffic due to the inner city restrictions.

The fence on the riverbank near us was constructed of about thirty foot long steel girders. It was interesting watching them being put in place. The river bank was slumping bit by bit, endangering not only the road but also the water and sewer pipes beneath the road. It was a practical response but I hope, not a permanent one as it's a bit ugly.

The footbridge damage is not obvious in this photo, but it has completely broken off its supporting pillar at one end. Pedestrians were going back and forth over it without incident for a week or two before it was fenced off. I imagine it is quite low in the queue to be fixed, cars coming before pedestrians.

I've been asked by a few people about our chimney. The roof has been made watertight by workmen sent by EQC (the government earthquake insurance agency). The gap where the chimney was has had replacement steel tiles put in place, which almost but not quite match the existing tiles. The gap in the eaves where the chimney came crashing through has also been mended, with replacement panelling in the soffit, replacement spouting and replacement roof tiles (there may also have been a beam or two that needed patching at the end). Any further repairs are waiting on a full assessment.

There is a priority system for repairing chimneys for those for whom it was their main heat source - especially the sick or elderly. We don't really qualify for the priority queue as we have other heating although not in the same room - an electric heat pump in our dining/living area and another in the room my husband uses as an office. In the living room where the fireplace is, we will have to use a portable electric heater or in an emergency, a portable gas heater. (Power cuts are likely this winter, as the whole electricity system is "cobbled together with extension leads" at the moment). Technically, open fires are no longer allowed to be used in Christchurch anyway. So the replacement programme allows for an alternative heat system to be installed - a heat pump or approved log burner, for instance.

Despite the bylaw banning open fires (due to clean air regulations) no one is to be prosecuted this winter for using them. Presumably because of the overload on the electricty system. However, the public are strongly advised to get their chimneys checked before use, even if apparently undamaged. I saw the consequences of not doing so today. On my way to work, I passed a house with a gaping hole in the roof around the chimney, exposing charred roof beams. Presumably, they ignored or hadn't heard the advice. A hard lesson to learn.

Progress

2011-05-01T22:05:00.000+12:00

Driving to work this week, I realised that I am now able to take exactly my normal route, that is the route I took before the earthquake. The cordons are shrinking a little, however I gather it could be many more months before they are gone completely.

My favourite bookshop has reopened in new premises. That's the good news, the bad news is twofold: firstly, that they haven't been able to access any of their stock from their old shop. I think that's because the tower block over the road is unstable and until it can be made safe no-one is allowed near. The second part of the bad news is that they have relocated in Riccarton, which tends to be congested at the best of times, and since the earthquake is like Christmas Eve, Boxing Day and school holidays all rolled into one as shoppers from all the parts of town where the malls are closed head there instead.

Supposedly all roads are now passable. The road workers have done a fantastic job. However "passable" seems to have a slightly flexible meaning - apart from the fact that the inner city is still cordoned off (the roads may be OK but there are many unsafe buildings) there are streets like ours where we can get in at one end only.

This is the other end, only pedestrians can get through. There is a broken sewer pipe under the river, this is quite complicated to fix and in the meantime there are temporary pipes, pumps etc all over the place.

There are 38,000 damaged sections of road, although they have been patched up they won't have permanent repairs done until the water and sewage systems have been fully repaired.

From a Distance

2011-04-25T00:01:00.000+12:00

We have been having beautiful weather this weekend and I decided that after weeks of having the physio pummel my Achilles tendon I could trust it enough to go for a walk in the hills. Many of the walking tracks are closed because of the dangers of loose rock after the earthquake. So I headed for the Huntsbury Track, the nearest track to me that is open, probably because it goes along the top of a spur so there is not much chance of anything falling on the track (or the unsuspecting walker).

For some reason I've never walked this track before. I was surprised to find how far up the hill the road took me, so I was already half way to the top when I parked the car. That made it quick and easy to reach the top - probably about half an hour though I wasn't timing - and to catch a view of the harbour on the other side.

From up in the hills, the city spread below looked very normal.

Although when I zoomed in, I could see the Science Alive clock tower sheathed in plywood to stop loose bricks falling - and once I figured where to look, the "leaning tower of Christchurch" - the Hotel Grand Chancellor, which has sunk on one side, and will have to be demolished. Easier said than done, it hasn't been quite decided yet how to achieve this without putting the demolition workers at risk, and without damaging surrounding buildings.

But for the most part, I forgot about the city and enjoyed the walk.

And when I reached the bottom again, I spotted this young fellow in a paddock, who was curious enough to wander over to check me out.

Tuesday Poem: Pause by Ursula Bethell

2011-04-19T22:36:00.000+12:00

Pause

When I am very earnestly digging
I lift my head sometimes, and look at the mountains,
And muse upon them, muscles relaxing

I think how freely the wild grasses flower there,
How grandly the storm-shaped trees are massed in their gorges,
And the rain-worn rocks strewn in magnificent heaps,

Pioneer plants on those uplands find their own footings
No vigorous growth, there, is an evil weed:
All weathers are salutary.

It is only a little while since this hillside
Lay untrammelled likewise,
Unceasingly swept by transmarine winds.

In a very little while, it may be,
When our impulsive limbs and our superior skulls
Have to the soil restored several ounces of fertiliser,

The Mother of all will take charge again,
And soon wipe away with her elements
Our small fond human enclosures.

************

Ursula Bethell (1874-1945) was born in England, grew up in New Zealand and spent her early adult life in Britain and Europe before returning to New Zealand. She lived in the Cashmere Hills on the south side of Christchurch. Many of her poems refer to gardens and gardening.

The last stanza of this poem was quoted in an article a couple of weeks ago in our local paper, on the Canterbury landscape in literature, as related to the recent earthquakes. It had me seeking out the full poem, which I found in the Oxford Anthology of New Zealand Poetry in English.

For more poems, visit the Tuesday Poem hub, where you will find the Tuesday Poets listed in the sidebar.

Getting to Use My Wind-Up torch

2011-04-16T22:57:00.000+12:00

This evening just before six we had a large jolting aftershock and all the lights promptly went out. After the two main quakes I felt as if I was on an adrenalin high. This time it was more like "enough, already". I felt - well, tired.

But at least I knew where to find my dynamo powered hand cranked torch, which I had bought after the February 22nd quake, not expecting to ever have to use it.

And we do have a gas stove top, so I was able to continue with cooking dinner. But eating by candlelight really doesn't feel romantic any more.

Eventually the lights came back on, along with computers and everything else. There are reports of more damage such as burst water mains, a building that is now on a lean, and so on. Some cordons that had been removed have been replaced - the road I drove down yesterday is now closed again.

You Don't Know What You've Got Till It's Gone

2011-04-15T23:01:00.000+12:00

As buildings are made safe or demolished, more roads are beginning to be opened, which gives me more possible routes to take to work. This morning I took the opportunity to stop and take some photos on the way, because buildings that are still there today (although damaged) may not be there next week.I stopped at Cranmer Square (above) where I was able to find a parking space - not always easy because of safety fencing, road works etc.

The Cranmer Centre on the south side of Cranmer Square was the original Christchurch Girls' High School, and featured in the film Heavenly Creatures with Kate Winslet and Melanie Lynskey.

It was being inspected...

A detail of the door.

On the north side of Cranmer Square are the Cranmer Courts - a lovely old stone building, once the Christchurch Normal School, later converted to upmarket apartments.

Corner detail of Cranmer Courts.

A Tale of Two Cities

2011-04-14T23:14:00.000+12:00

I was at the physiotherapist yesterday and I commented that I was getting exercise by walking back and forth to the Portaloo. She looked at me in some surprise and said "are they still using them" as if she thought everything would be fixed by now.

In fact it's been estimated it will take two years to fully fix the sewerage system. Half of Christchurch is still using Portaloos and chemical toilets, the other half (north and west) really seems to have no idea of how great the damage to the eastern half is.

At our place the choice is :
1. Use the toilet but flush very sparingly - the trucks come round every few days to suck silt out of the sewer pipes, and there are broken sewers leaking into the river.

2. Chemical toilets - one per household, actually quite clean and hygienic but they are a pain to empty. Since there are five to six people in our household, it fills up a lot faster than, say, at my daughter's where there is one.

3. Get some exercise walking to the nearest portable toilet on the street. Also surprisingly clean and hygienic. Not so much fun at night time, or in heavy rain. After the first earthquake the areas with damaged sewers had portable toilets distributed, one to every couple of households. But now we are pretty much using up the available world supply, and there are a couple per street if you are lucky (none on our street, we have to walk about a block).

I mentioned that the boil water notice was lifted the other day. However it is heavily chlorinated to make it safe. I read some advice on how to remove the chlorine taste: boil it!

Mostly an Earthquake Update

2011-04-11T19:11:00.000+12:00

I'd been thinking that I needed something to look forward to - something to do other than going to work and doing house and garden chores at the weekend. So last weekend (8-9 days ago) I had a great time at Joanna's poetry editing masterclass, walking in Hagley Park, and then shopping (although the shopping was a bit frustrating).

The trouble with that is that all the things that have to be done don't go away. And many of them take longer because nothing is in its usual place. The result was that I started the week feeling rather overwhelmed. So this weekend just gone, I went back to pottering round doing chores and errands. (Oh, and the NaPoWriMo plan has gone by the board - much as I am missing the fun, the last thing I need right now is an obligation to write a poem a day. They would probably all be really bad earthquake poems, anyway).

On Saturday I thought I was doing quite well. I actually managed to find some flat sheets packaged separately, not in packs with the fitted ones, so my foot will no longer keep poking through the hole in my sheet. I bought a birthday gift for a family member, and in the process of doing those two errands found a couple of shopping centres which actually had some parking available. In fact the South City centre, which was originally inside the cordon, actually had a nearly empty carpark. Probably because you have to figure out which roads you can take to get to it, and because half the shops there are still closed. But it would be a useful place to go if what you want is in one of the shops that are open.

At the second shopping centre, where I found the sheets and the book, I also walked straight past a bakery and let myself be tempted by a very tasty cinnamon loaf. I went to a garden centre and bought cascading pansies for some hanging basket colour over the winter. I plan to collect rain water for the baskets, we have a total ban on garden watering because of many damaged water pipes. And then I stopped beside the road on the way home to dash into a dairy (local convenience store) for cheap milk, and did something I have never done before - I locked the keys in the car with the engine running! My car beeps at me if I open the door with the keys still in the lock. But it turns out, only if you have turned the engine off. My phone call home was followed by a very long wait beside the car for a rescuer to come with a spare key.

However - the good news is that the boil water notice has been lifted. Since we have been using very little hot water though, I thought there might be some contaminated water still in the hot water tank. So I decided on a very long soak in a hot bath which was both relaxing after the car frustration, and served to flush out the tank. I also put a load on warm wash in the washing machine - I have been doing cold water washes and washing in a basin of water for the last month and a half. I also washed my hair - and forgot to put the conditioner in. So now it is sticking out at rather odd angles. I combed a bit of conditioner through this morning and I am avoiding mirrors until it settles down.

Then - I bucketed the water from the bath out to the garden, because I didn't want to let that much water down the fragile waste water system. I was getting a bit tired of carrying it out the front or back door, so I decided to chuck the last lot out the window of the spa. The spa pool is in a conservatory entered from the bathroom, we haven't used it for a few years as it needs repairs that we haven't got round to.

I opened the door - well, I started to open the door, it opened about an inch before it stuck. It wouldn't open any further, and it wouldn't close again either, it appears that opening it released some pressure and allowed the sides of the door frame to move in. It must have warped in the quake. Well, at least we now know to add it to the list of damage for the insurance inspectors when they come.

So, all in all it was a mixed weekend. Much of the rest of which was spent dozing off in various places. I think I have caught up on some much needed sleep, though.

Back to work today, where things are much more normal than our house - only a few small cracks in the wall linings, and actual flushing toilets. There, my boss and I commiserated over the fact that TV 3 has chosen to show really bad movies on Sunday nights instead of our favourite programmes - The Good Wife, for both of us, and House, for me.

And when I got home, while fetching in a load of nice warm fresh laundry from the line, and planting daffodils, I noticed that our roof didn't have a hole in the edge any more. Our emergency repairs - to make the house weathertight - had been started about two to three weeks ago, and seemingly abandoned. Especially when the workmen came back a week or so later and took away the ladder they had left behind. So it's really good to see it done, even though it is just a small item on the list of all the things that need fixing.

And not so earthquake related - the Tuesday Poets have written a collaborative poem to celebrate the first anniversary of Tuesday Poem - check it out.